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by sniper_clam



Series: We Could Be Heroes [1]
Category: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Mutual Pining, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Rumlow is a bully in every universe, Sitwell is mentioned, They all need a hug, Tony should not be allowed to do things unsupervised, all hurt for now, and you know how Jumanji works, blame it all on my flatmate, blink and you miss him - Freeform, but it's actually not his fault, comfort will come later, eventually, flamate who knows story and doesn't read "Character Death" says it's fine to read, non-canon compliant, some liberties had to be taken with Avengers, temporary major character death, the Jumanji AU I needed, the nature of all AUs, tiny small angry artist Steve, well it's a video game, what if the Avengers movie was the game in Jumanji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-01-21 05:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 77,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21294038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniper_clam/pseuds/sniper_clam
Summary: When various misdemeanors and one clear case of abuse of power get Steve, Bucky, Tony, Jane, Natasha, and Clint saddled with extra work, nobody is pleased to hear they will have to clean a storage room in the basement. When Tony's tinkering results in a functioning old Atari with a few new perks, most of them are happy enough to procrastinate on sorting through dusty antiques. Initially, they think they will just kill a few bad guys but soon the game develops a mind of its own.Dumped into the middle of a virtual ocean, they have to find a scepter to escape the game. Very soon, they realize that teamwork is the only thing to get them out again alive and they better get over their issues fast. And maybe, just maybe, Steve can finally figure out what has been troubling Bucky for the past few weeks (and maybe even make a confession of his own).(Or: How I went to see the new Jumanji with my flatmate and asked myself what would happen if the first Avengers movie were like this game. It all snowballed from there.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, background Tony Stark/Pepper Potts
Series: We Could Be Heroes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535057
Comments: 30
Kudos: 33
Collections: Stucky Big Bang 2019





	1. The Basement I

**Author's Note:**

> So here goes: my first actual story on AO3. It feels like ages ago (I think almost 2 years now?) since going to see the new Jumanji with my flatmate and thinking "Wouldn't it be hilarious if the entire first Avengers movie would be the game everyone gets sucked into?".   
Well guys, here are the entire 80k that snowballed from there (and there is so much more to come because of course we couldn't leave it at that - and we all need that comfort after the hurt. I may put them through the wringer, but there shall be comfort eventually).
> 
> To actually make myself finish this one, I joined the Stucky BB and teamed up with irenedonovan who'll do the art for this one (super excited to see it :) and link will follow as soon as the art is up).
> 
> Last, this story would not exist without my two flatmates (hsu and All_I_need ) who helped plot this entire insane story and beta'ed the shit out of it. Thank you so much for fangirling with me and makingn this story what it is :)

**Chapter 1**

Of course they ended up in the principal’s office – with the university counselor Mr. Coulson looking at them as if they were personally responsible for the bottle of wine he would need tonight even though he had promised himself not to drink during the week. But this occasion surely warranted an exception to this self-imposed rule.

Steve was still wheezing and alternately pressing a towel to his split lip and the cut at his right eyebrow, while Bucky was clenching his fists so hard his bruised knuckles would not stop bleeding. At least Steve’s split lip had stopped bleeding like mad and had slowed down to a trickle by now. As relieving as that was, it would prevent neither the university principal nor the counselor from kicking their asses (metaphorically speaking of course).

The principal was glaring at them as if he had not yet made up his mind entirely about how to start this conversation, so Bucky kick-started it. The sooner they got out of here, the better. “Why are we called in and that fuck-shit of-“

“Language, Mr. Barnes,” counselor Coulson reminded him sternly, his hands behind his back and lips pinched – the picture of outward calm and strict university authority.

“Fine. Why are we here and _Rumlow_ is not?” Bucky spat out the other student’s name as if it was poison.

“His behavior will be dealt with,” the principal promised, his voice more severe than Mr. Coulson’s. “You are aware that we do not allow any kind of violence on our campus.” His voice was brimming with authority, but it sounded like he had droned out the same thing for many, many years. Still, the death glare he fixed onto the two young men in front of him could have peeled paint, but it seemed to impress neither of them.

Bucky could still see Rumlow’s smirk when Steve had called him out on his behavior; everyone else too afraid to move between Rumlow and his latest unfortunate victim. Christ, he could still hear the punch that had knocked Steve down like a puppet. And then Rumlow had kept kicking him. And just like then Bucky snapped. _They_ were not the ones these guys needed to talk to.

“He fucking started it, for Christ’s sake! What was Steve supposed to do? Take the beating? Fuck, Rumlow didn’t even stop when he was lying on the fucking ground and coughing up blood!!” Bucky almost growled, his voice rising together with the surge of anger in his chest. He only barely managed to stay seated in his chair.

“Mr. Barnes!”

“We are aware of the circumstances of this … _situation_,” Mr. Coulson cut in, voice still calm, but ringing with authority, “However, we have to deal with all parties that- Mr. Rogers, are you alright?”

Steve’s wheezing had gotten worse and when Bucky looked at him, he was as white as the diploma-covered wall behind them, his chest laboring hard to draw enough air into his lungs.

“’S okay”, Steve gasped between ragged breaths and waved them off, all the while struggling to retrieve his inhaler.

The little device rattled tragically in his hands when he finally managed to pull it out of his pants, a long crack bisecting its white plastic shell. Steve spared it a resigned look and Bucky could see how he was fighting to put up a front. That idiot was trying to downplay his asthma!

With another growl, Bucky pulled the spare inhaler he had started carrying around out of his pocket and shoved it into Steve’s hand. For good measure, he gave Steve a warning look to not even think about not using it.

To everyone’s relief, Steve used the little device, inhaling the cloud of drugs in deep breaths and closing his eyes for a few seconds afterwards. As his breathing evened out, Bucky’s jaw slowly unclenched.

“Sorry. Mine must have broken when I fell.”

Bucky snorted. That was also an understatement. Likely one of Rumlow’s kicks had broken the damn thing instead of Steve’s bones.

The principal and Mr. Coulson both eyed Steve for a moment longer before the principal cleared his throat and pretended that they had not just averted a minor medical crisis.

“As Phil was saying: We are aware of who started the fight and what caused it thanks to some video footage and statements of other students. We are also aware that talking to you two and Mr. Rumlow in the same room would not be beneficial, hence this meeting.

“Despite your valiant motives, boys, your behavior still violates our strict non-violence rules here on campus. If you do not want to be kicked out, I will not see a repetition of this incident.”

“Not if Rumlow keeps harassing other students,” Steve said without a shred of regret, his jaw lifted in a way Bucky knew all too well. It was the look of Steve being prepared to fight his way out if he had to.

Bucky wanted to strangle him, but he nodded. His Mom might give him hell if he managed to get himself kicked out of university, but he would not stand by while assholes like Rumlow thought they could get away with murder.

The principal’s mouth was pressed into an even more severe line. Bucky thought he might have glimpsed one corner lifting up in the shadow of a smile, but then the principal’s stare turned cutting. Neither of them looked away.

“As I was saying,” he finally continued, “I will not see this happening again on my campus, gentlemen. For now, you will get away with a warning and some voluntary work Phil will find for you.”

Before they could protest, the principal stood up in a fluid motion, towering above them, hands braced on the dark mahogany of his desk. “You will attend this work unless you want to be failed in one of your classes, are we clear?”

This time, Bucky and Steve looked away. “Yes, sir.”

“Phil will give you the details in his office when you report there on Monday after lunch. Any questions?”

His voice brokered no argument, but of course Steve could not keep quiet. “Will Rumlow also be facing the same consequences?”

“Yes, Mr. Rogers. Mr. Rumlow will also be kicked out if he ever repeats his behavior,” Mr. Coulson cut in with what sounded like a sigh before the principal could say whatever lay on his tongue in much more colorful terms.

“He might face some time of suspension from his lectures as well as the football team,” Coulson added when neither Bucky nor Steve seemed very convinced.

Steve finally nodded, accepting that sentence – he might have kept quiet during Bucky’s outburst, but Bucky knew that Steve did think it wasn‘t fair to drag them in and leave Rumlow be. He had been the one who had called Rumlow out on his behavior after all and now had the bruises to prove it. It was probably Steve’s asthma attack that had saved both the principal and the counselor from a marvelous display of just how much righteous anger could be packed into such a tiny person.

Bucky sighed when they got up and left with the promise to report to Mr. Coulson’s office on Monday. Sometimes he wished that Steve would think before stepping in. Then again, overthinking things when someone was treated unfairly or bullied would be as un-Steve-like as it could get. And there was nothing in Steve that he would ever want to change – even if his best friend sometimes drove him crazy.

That boy simply had the most stubborn head Bucky had ever met (and he still remembered his baby sister at age four) and the biggest determination to step up for those who needed help. Steve simply lacked the body and health (his asthma was not that bad, but no matter how well managed, it was definitely not the best thing to have when you faced down people twice your size who thrived on violence and on holding power over others like Rumlow did) to back all this up. And that stupid punk lacked anything close to self-preservation instincts. So Bucky had taken it upon himself to be the additional muscle his best friend lacked and to provide some necessary common sense when Steve was in a listening mood (which happened not that often).

He was still brooding and holding in his latest lecture Steve would have to sit through when they were not surrounded by hundreds of students, when a screech bounced through the hallway and a streak of seafoam green and blond vaulted itself onto Steve.

Stumbling a step backwards, Steve managed to wrap his arms around what Bucky now recognized as the girl Rumlow had pestered. Tears rimmed her eyes and her hands were white, so tightly was she holding onto Steve’s shirt.

“Thank you, thank you, Steve!” She pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek that had his ears go red at their tips.

Bucky only lifted an eyebrow. His lecture could wait a bit longer. This curious display was way more interesting, especially since he had never seen her with Steve.

“Grace, this is Bucky. Bucky, Grace,” Steve introduced them once the blonde loosened her hold on him.

“From the self-defense classes,” he added for Bucky’s ears only.

Dark eyes turned to Bucky before Grace attacked him with an embrace as well. “Thank you, too. I thought he would never stop. I was just getting out my pepper spray, but I … I froze. I just …”

“It’s okay. Bucky had my back.” Steve’s voice wrapped around them as Bucky held Grace, felt her tremors running through her body as if they were his own. And if he was holding her a little bit harder than necessary, she did not say anything.

They parted ways with her soon after. Steve hugged her goodbye and checked one last time that she was all right. Grace rolled her eyes, but let him fuss; he was like Peggy in that regard.

Satisfied that she was just a little bit shaken, but not harmed in any other way, Steve let go of her. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Sure.” Steve gave her hand one last reassuring squeeze before Grace turned her brown eyes on Bucky. Although she was a good head smaller than Bucky she stared him down with all the force she could muster. “You look after him okay? He has a knack for getting into trouble.”

“Oh c’mon -,” Steve complained, but was shut up by two pairs of eyes boring into him.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky reassured her with a smile that felt a bit too strained. Steve raised his hands in silent defeat and turned away from them with a huff.

Grace looked at Bucky a moment longer as if she were seizing up an opponent. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she finally nodded. Before she could pass him by, however, Bucky squeezed her shoulder and, leaning down to her, murmured something into her ear that was too quiet for Steve to catch.

Her face lit up with a wicked grin and she waggled her can of pepper spray meaningfully as she walked down the corridor.

# #

In the end, Steve had to face Bucky’s wrath; he had known it all along. He saw the lecture waiting to happen in the way Bucky ground his jaw and the way his eyes kept skipping back to the cut on his eyebrow and his split lip and how his gaze grew stormy every time he looked at the fine spider web cracks in the left side of Steve’s glasses.

When Bucky ditched his bag and took up camp behind their kitchen counter, cutting onions and carrots with a vengeance, Steve knew that his time was finally up.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said after the silence between them stretched on for too long. There had been too much of that of late and he had come to loathe it. The easy silence that had lived alongside them for so many years as an extension of themselves was now an obstacle Steve had no idea how to navigate. This new silence smothered him with each second. He could feel it pulling the air from his lungs, but so far he had not found a way to dispel it.

The chopping came to a sudden stop and the sound of the knife being put down too precisely was followed by a heavy sigh. Bucky had both of his arms braced on the kitchen counter, his dark head hanging low, knuckles white with the force he gripped the counter with.

“Stop it, Steve. Just- Stop it. We both know you’re not sorry.” Lifting his head seemed to require all of Bucky’s strength. When he finally looked at Steve, his eyes burned bright with anger. “What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

“He was harassing her and they all just stood there, Buck! What was I _supposed_ to do?”

“I was there.”

“Then you know exactly why I had to step in.”

“I do, I fucking do. But Jesus Christ, Stevie, he almost killed you!”

Steve opened his mouth, chin already raised defiantly and about to say something stupid when the force of Bucky’s glare shut him right up again. “Don’t you dare say you had him on the ropes. Don’t you fucking dare, Rogers!”

“I was not-“

“Yes you were!” Bucky’s shout echoed in the kitchen and the muscles on his arms shifted as he let his head hang again to take a deep breath. He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so hard that veins and sinews were as prominent as bones on his hands and arms – Steve could get mesmerized watching this display if the situation were any different.

When Bucky continued, his voice was low but it shook with intensity. And the way he looked at Steve … it made something deep inside him clench tight, a quake about to happen settling in the pit of his stomach. “You were coughing up blood, Steve. You’re lucky you’re not in the hospital right now.”

Steve’s answer, when it came, was subdued and his stance was no longer that of a man willing to take down opponents twice his size. Despite the general opinion and his tendency of rushing into fights, he was not stupid. He simply could not abide bullies in any shape or form. And to be fair, Rumlow had picked the worst timing to be his terrible self and cross Steve’s path. “You would not let that happen.”

“I- _Jesus …_“ Bucky stared at Steve as he buried one hand in his hair and shook his head. Coming around the kitchen counter, he let go of his hair and fumbled with a pack of cigarettes in his pants instead. Steve meant every word of it. “I need a smoke.”

Steve let him be for as long as it took him to get out of his bloody and torn shirt and exchange his broken glasses with the good pair he kept at home for exactly that reason. Returning to the living room, he saw that Bucky had not moved from the fire escape yet. He sat down next to him, huddling a bit tighter into the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders against the early evening chill.

“Steve.” His name left Bucky’s lips on a weary sigh together with blue-grey curls of smoke.

“I’m not in the smoke, Buck.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching cabs and cars go by on the streets below. Sirens blared some distance away and only a few streets over a street party seemed to be in full swing. Bucky was the one who spoke first. “Just think about what your Ma would have said.”

Steve’s lips twitched. “She would have given me hell for sure. But Rumlow would have had to face her wrath if she had ever crossed his path.”

The image of Sarah Rogers lecturing Rumlow conjured a smile onto Bucky’s lips. She was a saint, but he had lived through enough of her lectures to know that Steve's Ma could be a fierce woman you did not want to disappoint. And men like Rumlow? Well, Sarah Rogers would eat those for breakfast – which was even better because none of these men, including Bucky’s excuse of a father, ever saw it coming.

His smile did not last for long though. As soon as those thoughts disappeared and the present took a hold of him again, his lips compressed into a tight line. He took the last drag of his cigarette and smashed the butt on the sole of his boot maybe a bit harder than necessary.

The smoke rose in lazy curls in front of him before disappearing. Bucky watched it for a while, wishing time and memories might just be gone as easily. Why could this week not be over already? Or better yet this whole damn month?

“Please Steve, just …” He shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair. “Hell, I get why Rumlow. I really do. If you wouldn’t have punched him, I would have. I just want you to be more careful in the future, okay?”

“Bucky-“

“Steve, please just say ‘_Yes, I promise’_. Just this once.”

Steve looked at his best friend, at his hunched shoulders and tired eyes. “Yes, I promise.”

They both knew it was a lie.


	2. The Basement II

**Chapter 2**

It was one of the curiosities of time when it came to weekends and students: time always seemed to pass too quickly. Fridays dragged on until the last lecture of the day was finished while every hour after that rushed by in blur until it was back to uni again. On this particular Monday, however, time continued to behave strangely.

For Steve, the classes where he was allowed to actually paint or sketch always passed by in seconds. The lectures on art history and theory on the other hand … Well, those had a tendency to drag on for much longer than they should.

The end of the second block of lectures and the lunch break on this Monday were eagerly awaited by all students. Nevertheless, it came as somewhat of a surprise to Steve. He gathered his books and note pad, stuffed them in his bag where his sketch book and tablet already were, and left the Jefferson Building that housed the majority of art and theater classes.

Form this part of campus it was not too far a walk to the Mary Whiton Calkins Building which belonged to the Psychology Department and housed counselor Coulson’s office. Halfway to the modern chrome and glass building, Bucky joined him, looking like the weekend was clinging to his every step.

“Ready for what Coulson has in store for us?” Steve asked, biting back his comment about Bucky coming home with the dawn on Monday morning. Again.

At least the new dark circles under his eyes were barely there; mere ghosts compared to those dark purple bruises Steve had had to see over the last few weeks. Bucky could make his own decisions, and apart from worrying about his best friend Steve had no real options left.

Said best friend shrugged and fell in step next to him. “Can’t be that bad. Mom says _Hi,_ by the way. Everything worked well with Becca picking her up.”

“Good to hear. Say _Hi_ from me, too.”

Bucky just grinned and typed away on his phone for a few seconds. “Already did, punk. They’re off to a small road trip tomorrow.”

It was such a normal conversation – one they must have had over a thousand times over the years. Yet it made Steve pause, that nagging feeling that something was up with Bucky clawing at him from the inside. But as long as Bucky did not say a damn word about it, how was he supposed to help him? It hurt to see him like this – the dark circles apparently permanent by now, that frown well-worn and practiced, his presence in their apartment more that of a ghost than him actually living there.

The fear that it would probably turn out to be an ugly beast of a conversation had kept Steve quiet for so long. He was afraid of the aftermath of what would most certainly involve shouting and maybe even doors being slammed shut. But Steve was at the end of his rope. They needed to talk and soon!

Despite the impatience boiling in his gut, Steve clenched his jaw and carried one. He vowed that tonight he would not let Bucky evade this conversation any longer – their apartment was safe, no one around but them. If his best friend needed to rage and shout to get it out, there was no better place.

It only took them another minute to enter Mr. Coulson’s office in companionable silence, both young men tangled in their own thoughts. The university counselor greeted them in his usual combination of immaculate suit and bland yet warm smile; it left students feeling comfortable, but also afraid it might disguise the biggest grudge. It was therefore perfectly suited for a university counselor who dealt with students barely out of their parents’ homes, thinking they owned the world, as well as students who came to him on their own accord, genuinely seeking help.

They were led into a small reception area with chairs that seemed too bright and colorful for the counselor’s personal taste, but fit the general cheery atmosphere exuded by his receptionist. Two of these chairs were already occupied; one was a student about their age who sat on a cherry red chair in the middle of the line, her feet drawn up and her green eyes watching them with mild disinterest. She briefly nodded to Bucky when they passed her by, before turning her eyes back to the room.

“We’re still waiting for some other students, but it should not take long. Just make yourselves comfortable here in the meantime,” Coulson advised, waving his hand at the chairs and looking over the now assembled four of his six culprits.

“You know her?” Steve asked in a curious whisper as soon as Coulson had left the room again. “She’s from one of my lit classes - Natasha. Smart, savage when it comes to literature criticism; you really don’t want to be at the receiving end of her death glare.”

Steve nodded and looked over to the other guy who was sitting at the far end of the chair line right in the corner of the reception area. He was turning something around in his hands without looking, his gaze resting on them as if he was trying to decipher their lives just by looking at them.

Steve smiled at him, waving a hand in silent hello. It never hurt to be friendly, but this room seemed to demand hushed voices and quiet. Before he could string up a conversation or at least introduce himself, however, a tiny student with her shoulders drawn up in the epitome of guilt walked into the room.

“Take a seat, Jane,” the receptionist suggested with a kind smile.

The young woman nodded and sat down immediately, hands folded neatly in her lap and her shoulders still hunched over. She only looked up for a second – long enough to spare them a brief glance.

The last student in their little group arrived late (and of course it was Tony Stark, Steve should have known – Tony was probably the one student who was the reason every lecturer here knew how to perform an impromptu speech of things that are not appropriate in class). Bucky had pulled out his dog-eared favorite sci-fi novel in the meantime, while the little brunette was scribbling away in a notebook after she had asked Coulson if it was okay to finish some homework. Bucky’s literature class mate had moved from her chair and folded herself up next to the guy in the very corner.

“This is all a huge mistake. I was _improving_ that lecture. Okay, that one experiment went a bit wrong, but isn’t that how physics works? Trial and error? But you also learn from failure, don’t you? Thanks to me we now know that iron should _not_ be used in this reaction. You should actually thank me for that!”

“I will thank you, Mr. Stark, once you sit down and I can tell everyone what you will be doing today,” Coulson replied with a tight-lipped smile that hinted at well-worn frustration and an impending headache the size of California.

“_Now_,” he added with more authority in his voice when Tony took a breath and opened his mouth with the clear intent of going off on another rant.

With an indignant huff, Tony followed the counselor’s advice and sat down in the noisiest manner possible.

“Great. Due to various things you all ended up here, you know why, so no reason to go over this again. As it happens, we are in need of some … volunteers, so you’ll be taking over that role. If you would please follow me.”

They shared a confused look, but got up slowly. Tony was the one that beat everyone to the obvious question. “Where are we going? I mean, there is all this about how you’re not supposed to follow strangers and stuff, and technically you’re not a stranger by being the uni counselor and all that jazz, but really, how do we know you’re not leading us into some dark basement room to be locked up?”

Coulson only merited Tony’s words with a sigh and a raised eyebrow. He turned halfway around while still walking down the corridor. “You will not be locked up in some basement room, Mr. Stark. This would be unethical and extremely against university rules and the Geneva Convention. You will, however, spend most of today in a room together.”

“What about our classes?” Jane piped up, concerned, pressing her note book tighter to her chest.

“Your classes have all been suspended for you for the rest of today; your teachers have been informed.”

“They’re boring anyway,” Steve heard Tony mutter from behind him.

Coulson must have heard too, but he chose to ignore it. “As you all know, Thanksgiving is just around the corner and we are preparing a few celebrations. For those, we will be showing people around and we need more space to do so. One of the largest rooms that is not a lecture hall or a laboratory has been used as some sort of … Well, storage to be precise, and messily so. Principal Fury and I thought you should spend your day cleaning that room, sorting all its contents into cardboard boxes, et cetera. This should give you enough time to think about the reasons _why_ you are doing this and hopefully prevent you from making the same mistake again. And here we are.”

Without any extra flourish, he unlocked the door and opened it for the six young students. Grudgingly, they entered and stared at the room in horror.


	3. The Basement III

**Chapter 3**

“We’re supposed to pack all this today?” It did not matter who of the six of them had said it, they all thought the same with varying degrees of indignation and resignation.

“You should be able to finish it today if you work together,” was all Coulson said, not even looking at the room again. “I’ll be checking in on you occasionally. But for now, this room is all yours. Of course, if you don’t manage to clear it today, you’ll be coming down here every day this week until it’s finished.”

They all stared at the door as it fell shut in slow motion and the lock made a soft click.

“He’s joking, right?” Tony’s croaking startled everyone back into motion. He looked at the others with his disheveled hair and the occasional spot of soot on his 80s rock band t-shirt and right then and there Steve thought he looked a bit unhinged. There was a rising panic hinting at something deeper in his brown eyes, but then it was gone again and Tony gestured wildly at the room as if he could exercise those unwanted feelings welling up if he just moved. “Locking us into this room – isn’t that some form of torture or something?”

“Technically, we’re not locked in,” Jane pointed out quietly, already stepping closer to the shelves. Although most of them were metal, they seemed to be leaning sideways under their weight. “I think if we all take two shelves each, it might not be too bad?”

Jane’s suggestion met a few raised eyebrows, but Steve could only nod. It seemed the most sensible way to go about it.

Steve did not really care which shelf he had to clean in the end, but curiosity got the better of him, so he started wandering around aimlessly. It seemed items had been sorted randomly and he had not found any pattern by the time he reached the other end of the room.

“Pff, I shouldn’t be here. You lot can climb those rickety shelves as much as you want, I hope you have fun.” With a dramatic twirl, Tony let himself fall into an old arm chair that had half its back missing. An angry cloud of dust and tiny particles shot up from the musty cushion in response to being used and rained its moldy vengeance upon Tony.

“Are you serious?” Steve heard Jane say and looked around his shelf. The small student was staring at Tony’s lounging body as if he had just said the earth was a disc. “You of all people should be here, Tony!”

“I don’t think so, love.”

“You disrupted Dr. Selvig’s lecture. Again. Not to mention that you blew up an experiment we have been working on for months now!”

Her outraged cry also drew the others closer. Steve took a cautious step around the shelf.

“That was … not planned.” Steve thought that the other boy almost looked apologetic at that; well he had a pained, constipated look on his face. Just as fast, Tony flashed Jane the kind of cocky grin that belonged to the truly mad or brilliant, and any hint of an apology was well erased. “But hey, at least you also get data from that.”

Jane gripped the textbook from her shelf tighter. Steve could hear the low squeak the spine let out in protest and he was sure that it would not take much more poking from Tony before Jane vaulted herself across what little space separated her from Tony’s dusty, broken chair. “You’re not even in the physics department!”

“Hey, erm could you help me over there for a second?” It was not the most subtle of moves, but it did its job. Jane nodded with one last backward glance from narrowed eyes before walking into the aisle Steve had indicated.

Tony jumped up from his chair as if about to follow her, but Steve stepped in his way. There was no way in hell he would let this go on any longer. Jane seemed like a sweet, shy person, but even those had their limits when pushed past a certain point.

“Maybe you should make yourself useful or keep quiet.”

That got him an intense look from dark, dark eyes. Disregarding Steve’s personal space, Tony took another step closer until their noses almost collided and pursed his lip. “Hey! Aren’t you the guy who threw himself at this dick Rumlow?”

Throwing an arm around Steve before he could answer, Tony steered him around in a small circle. “Great job. Really nice. That sucker really had it coming. To be honest, I don’t think you deserve to be here for that either. I guess that’s why you’re here? Right. As I said, shame. A medal would be more appropriate. Didn’t think a tiny shrimp like you could throw a punch like that. Hope you broke his nose though.”

“Don’t think so,” Steve said and ducked beneath Tony’s arm to free himself.

Tony pouted and then almost ran into Bucky who had watched them like a hawk and was now towering over Tony with all of his two inches he had over the other student. For a second, Tony wobbled back a step, but it was over just as fast. Then the cocky genius took over again and he drew back his shoulders in the most annoying, aloof way he could muster. “And you? Why are you here?”

Bucky stared the other student down until he twitched nervously again, but still Tony did not move away. Steve had to give him that at least; not many people managed that under Bucky’s glare. “Same reason.”

“Ha! Great, bro. Good to hear.” Tony made as if to clap Bucky on the shoulder and then thought better of it when icy blue eyes promised the same anger Bucky had unleashed upon Rumlow. Tony scurried back to the other end of the room to bother the last two members of their group.

“What the hell?” Bucky muttered and Steve could only raise his eyebrows and shake his head.

“While we’re all confessing the reasons we are here – what did you do to get stuck with cleaning duty, man?”

“Didn’t really agree with Sitwell and his shit-ass world view.”

“That’s great. Power to the people, man. What did you do? Itching powder in his papers? Glue on his drawer handles?”

The other student laughed, finally turning his whole body to Tony. “Great ideas, but no.”

He raised his hand. Covering his left ear, he pulled something out and held it out for Tony to see. “I muted him.” Tony stared at the little device for a second, then back up at the student before cracking up with laughter.

After a minute, it was clear that the infamous hyper-caffeinated madness of Tony Stark took over. “You know if you give me that, I could probably make it better than it is now.”

“Leave Clint be, Tony,” the redheaded girl said from the next shelf over.

“He can decide on his own. So what do you say, my man? I won’t need more than today to tinker with them for a bit.”

“Nah, thanks. Whatever Tasha said.”

“Spoil sport,” Tony muttered before craning his neck to look around the shelf corner at the redhead. “And what brought you here, angry bird?”

Natasha did not even deign to give him an answer. She simply put the skull she was currently holding into the box that already contained half of the old biology skeleton and looked at Tony. His gaze flitted back and forth between the box and that green-eyed glare that would not waver.

“Fine. Don’t say it.” He seemed to decide that this was not a fight he wanted to have right now (or ever), Steve watched Tony wander around the room, picking things up and putting them down on different shelves again once he lost interest. Steve was sure he heard a sigh of relief from Jane next to him when Tony was finally silent. “You know him?”

Jane looked at him as if he had just personally insulted here before her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her forehead with a sigh. “Not really. He just keeps crashing my physics lectures because he thinks he knows it all.”

They kept throwing comic books into their box when Jane took a step back to take in the higher shelves. “Hold on.” Jane looked at the shelf again and nimbly climbed on the bottom one to pull down a stack of even older comic books from above her head. Steve had to suppress a laugh – he had been thinking exactly the same.

“I would have asked, but you’re not that much taller, so erm, yes.” She shrugged when she stepped down. “Sometimes, we have to be a bit more … well, hands on, right?”

Steve just looked at her, his lips twitching. Jane blinked and after another heart beat her hands flew up to cover her mouth. She was still holding the stack of comics she had climbed the shelf for so that in the end yellowed paper covered most of her face. “Oh my god! That came out all wrong. I’m so sorry. My flatmate … she must be rubbing off on me. I’m sorry.”

He knew he should not laugh, but it was too late. To make the entire thing less awkward for her, he turned back to the shelf and kept on sorting out old text books, his shoulders shaking.

“Don’t worry,” he tried to reassure her, “It’s true though. I would have had to climb up there, too.”

Hazel eyes peeked at him from over the comics for a few seconds before the tension in her shoulders eased. “Right, okay.” She cleared her throat, nodded to herself, deposited the new stack in its box and brushed her hair back behind her ears. “You have to be creative when you’re small, I guess.”

Steve nodded, but was prevented from saying anything else by a shout at the other end of the room. “Yatzee!”

“Jesus Christ, Tony! What is it now?” Bucky shouted from his end.

When no answer came back and the storage room was too quiet, they all abandoned their boxes to go check on Tony. They found him sitting on the floor, bent over something, screws and cables spread around him as if a robot had been gutted.

“You are aware we’re here to clean this shit up and not make the chaos worse, right?” Natasha asked in a voice embodying the spirit of a raised eyebrow.

Tony only muttered something under his breath, but kept on working. To Steve he looked somewhat like one of those mad scientists Bucky’s beloved sci-fi books sometimes featured – dark hair standing up in all directions, shirt even more stained with oil than before (wherever that had come from) and all sorts of technical equipment lying around. Steve wondered if an AI invasion/world domination was imminent.

“I guess that’s better than him running around like a hyperactive squirrel,” Bucky muttered and went back to his shelf.

A few hours passed in blessed silence. But of course it could only last for so long. Tony’s cry of triumph shattered the quiet rhythm of their breaths and the occasional scrapping of something on the floor. “It’s online. Yes, baby. Now who’s up for a little game? Come on, guys. You can’t just work all the time. Studies proof that you also need to take breaks to enhance your productivity and yadda, yadda, you know the drill.”

“Tony, what have you been doing?” It was Steve who asked the question when they saw that Tony had dragged a TV from somewhere (how did a TV end up in here and where the fuck had it come from? Seriously!) and sat it on the chair with the broken back. A sad looking console with wiring and cables sticking out of it like wind-tussled hair was on the floor and connected to the TV.

“Can you believe it? I found this old Atari – still good, just needed some TLC: new wires, chips, bit of rerouting. This room is amazing. I think it might be the Room of Requirement or something. Hold on, would that make Coulson Dumbledore??”

“Tony!”

“Right, so I found it and did what I do best.” A dashing, proud grin. “I tinkered a bit with the wiring of the game and some of its programming as well and here we go. As good as new – well, even better now. So, who wants to try it?”

Jane, ever the practical-minded person, pointed out the obvious flaw, “There are no controllers.”

“Hold on!” Tony disappeared again and came back after five minutes that were full of colorful swearing. His return was accompanied by a ruckus that sounded like the entire room was falling down on them. “Ta-da! Okay now, who’s in?” Tony asked as he plugged the controllers in and started the game.

An epic fanfare rang out and after some flickering–

Steve wrinkled his nose in disgust and personal affront as the title wobbled drunkenly onto the screen. Bucky laughed outright. “Seems like money can’t buy good taste in graphic design.”

“Really, Tony?” Jane tried to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “He draws the most detailed blueprints between lessons, this is definitely … not you.”

“I had more important things to tinker with. Must be part of the original coding …”

“Sure. I would say that now too,” Clint snorted.

Whoever was responsible for the design in the end, Steve thought, it didn’t make the title look any better. And the font, well fonts, plural, was not the worst. His eyes were still burning from having to see that cobbled-together design atrocity. The individual letters looked like every second pixel had been stolen from a different title of the most recognizable game and movies of the 21st century after having been converted into Comic Sans.

“I don’t have to explain my decisions to you,” Tony sniffed and then pointed at the screen. “I thought we were here to play, not throw around some fancy art criticism.”

“That’s not criticism, it’s the truth.”

“Listen up, buttercup. I don’t criticize your … your” – Tony waved about his hand holding the controller – “questionable choice of hair style and you shut up about fonts I had no hand in. Capice?”

Nat leaned over to Bucky and said just lough enough for the others to still hear it, “Don’t listen to him. Pepper manages his wardrobe. And I’ve seen your hair at its worst – this is almost peak fashion, James.”

“Pepper’s fashion sense is a gift and why should I not indulge her when it makes her happy?” Leaving that in the room, Tony turned back to the screen and clicked ‘Start’ in the most ostentatious and lavish way possible. The logo faded to black and was replaced with a list of six names (thankfully in a precise, elegant font), each accompanied by a small symbol in what seemed to be a bronze medal.

“That’s me!” Tony clicked on the very first name. The accompanying bronze medal resembled some sort of helmet with two slim rectangles for eyes. They glowed bright blue for a second before the medal started spinning and the name turned a faded gray.

“Who’s next?”

“We should really get back to work.”

“Aww, come on, Jane. Don’t be such a spoil sport. It’s just for ten minutes and science says we need breaks. You don’t want to argue with science, do you?”

“Why not?” Clint was next to pick a name, his medal embossed with a bow and arrow.

“Can’t let you boys have all the fun. _Infamous Spy_, that sounds like a character I could get along with.” The symbol next to Natasha’s character spun rapidly, flashing a spider web.

Tony looked at Bucky, who simply shrugged. “Ten minutes won’t hurt. The stuff in this room won’t run away and we already cleaned half of it.” With that Bucky chose his character, the one at the very bottom with a rifle on his medal.

Jane fidgeted next to Steve. “But we …”

“I don’t think stopping for ten minutes will be that bad. And it’s just for one round, right?“ Steve picked up the second to last controller and looked back at Jane.

She crumbled under the honesty in those faithful blue-green eyes. “Fine. Ten minutes.”

Tony whooped as she took the last controller. Steve nodded to her, a happy smile on his face. “After you.”

“There is not really much choice left, but _Explorer of Worlds_ does have a nice ring.” She clicked on the name and her medal disappeared in a flash of bright lightning. Which left Steve with the only other option - the Captain.

“Let’s see what kind of game Tony invented in the last hour,” Steve muttered, which got him a smile full of teeth from the man in question and some muttered guesses form the others.

The screen, however, stayed a boring, unexciting black.

“I think it’s broken,” Clint said with a disappointed sigh after they had given the old Atari some minutes to get its bearings.

“Can’t be!” Tony shook his controller before patting the gaming console carefully. “Come on, buddy. I know you work. No need to be shy. You’re awesome and I believe in y-”

“Tony!”

“Yes, yes, I’m on it.”

“No, Tony! Fuck, you’re … What the fuck is this?”

The fear in Jane’s voice pulled Tony back to his present company in this room. He looked up at five faces that stared at him in silent horror and definitely not in a good way of a surprise so over the top people needed a minute to get used to its awesomeness.

“What?” He lifted his hand and could only watch in mute fascination and increasing alarm as it turned transparent and then disappeared, the effect travelling up his arm and spreading over his torso. “Holy fuck!”

Even though Tony was just as white and wide-eyed as all of them, Steve thought there was a curious brightness to his eyes. His dark brown eyes fixed on his hand and the Atari as if they would give up their secret if he just stared hard enough.

“Fuck!” All heads swiveled to Clint who had started to disappear too.

“Tony! What did you do?”

Tony Stark was speechless for the first time today (or in a long, long time, really) which should have been a cause for a massive celebration under any other circumstances. Steve only heard useless stuttered letters falling from Tony’s lips. Fear was crawling in his own chest, but he could not move – this was too unreal. His mind still insisted he was hallucinating while his body was bow-string taut but unwilling to move. “It was not supposed to end like this! An epic explosion or mad scientific experiment gone wrong – sure; maybe even smothered by Pepper. But not eaten by a damn old Atari!” Tony’s words were white noise in Steve’s ears. “Maybe some wires were inserted into the wrong slots? But that does not explain any disappearing!”

Tony was leaning over the console, trying to get it to stop with shaking hands, when his controller flashed golden and the cable glowed for a second. Tony’s controller clattered to the floor and only a moment later Clint’s followed. Steve was stumbled a step back, heart hammering in his chest.

By then Natasha was also starting to fade and Jane let the controller fall like a venomous snake. “This is not happening!”

Steve had to watch in horror as Bucky also started to disappear. Unwilling to succumb to the same fate as Tony and Clint, his best friend scrambled to the TV and pulled the cord. It drowned the screen in pitch black for a second, but it did not stop the disappearing. Natasha was the next one to go and then only Jane and Steve remained.

A few seconds later, the TV screen was running again, trumpets ringing out with the obnoxious fanfare that had preceded the character selection. It almost sounded even more pompous than the first time. “What the fucking fuck?”

Jane backed away from the chair and the TV, but still her hand also started to disappear. “No, no, no.”

Steve could do nothing as it also started on his body and seconds after Jane disappeared with a cry and a flash of gold, he was gone too. The TV screen flickered and the old Atari hummed happily while the cables of six controllers lay on the floor like dead snakes.


	4. From the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang arrives in the game. Not only do they have to grapple with new looks, but also with a secret agency that has been eagerly waiting for their arrival.

**Chapter 4**

Tony was no stranger to waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. The trick was simply to pretend you belonged until you had figured out what was going on. He’d had plenty of practice with that. Falling from the sky, however, was an entirely new experience and one he would very much like not to repeat, thank you very much. Dusting off his hands on his jeans, he took a look around.

“I think I’m not in Kansas anymore,” Tony muttered, taking in a lung full of sea air as his brain was slowly picking up speed. Odds raced through his head that all should be utterly impossible. He was open to new concepts, something of a pre-requisite to actually leading a company that dominated the market for renewable energy, but who would have thought that this old Atari–

A _whoosh_ right next to him startled him out of his victorious delirium with an undignified shriek. (In any recounts of this, he would deny that he ever made such a sound – vehemently! That was most certainly not what he had done. If everyone could focus on the fact he had invented virtual reality that would jumpstart technology into the very next century right now and with an old _Atari _at that! Thank you!)

The _whoosh_ manifested into a wide-eyed shaggy blonde on somewhat shaky legs and dressed in some sort of weird Robin Hood leather outfit. What was his name again? He was the one with the hearing aid. He knew his name, he- “Clint!”

“What the fuck, man.” Clint took Tony in for just a second before he looked around, eyes growing even wider. His voice was just this side of wonder that shared a border with hysteria. “Where the hell am I?”

“A ship, obviously. Based on the size it looks like a battle ship.” Tony waved a hand at their surroundings with an air of mild disinterest. All boring once you had taken it in. It was not so important _what_ they were currently standing on, but _how_ they had gotten here and _where_ here actually was. “I think we’re in the game. I’m actually quite certain that we are. I must have managed to boost this little old piece of a gaming console to the next technological millennium. Which I’m also quite proud of, by the w-“

Another _whoosh_ of air barreled down next to them. Tony startled not as much as the last time, but Clint most certainly let out a yelp.

The redhead appeared not far from them. She seemed frighteningly more composed than Clint as she rose form her crouch, scrutinizing each and every visible inch of the ship and then looked at them with narrowed eyes and such intensity that Tony fidgeted. Clint, who was familiar with the intensity of her stare, simply waited it out with the faint smile of someone who had found himself in similar weird situations and had given up on questioning why.

She stalked right up to him, voice a hiss that was just as deadly as a blade, “This is most certainly not university. Tony, you have exactly ten seconds to tell me what you did.”

“Why must I have done something?”

Natasha simply raised an eyebrow, threatening and eloquent in a way that Tony would never accomplish even with an avalanche of words. (Probably because he never mastered the art of condensing what he said to its bare bones.)

“Tony did a thing. Not sure what, but he did,” Clint summarized and thus broke up their little staring contest that basically consisted of Tony flapping his mouth open like a fish to come up with any smart retort.

Natasha’s mouth curved up in a wry smile.

Tony was flustered. He had not just done ‘a thing ’. When he was about to tell them so in the most indignant tone he could muster, the next _whoosh_ raced down on the deck.

Getting annoyed now, Tony barely waited for the newcomer to get his bearings. If he was right, and he was sure he was, then they were appearing in the order they had chosen their avatars. Which meant they had to go through all this shebang two more times.

Unlike Clint and Natasha, the newcomer was not wearing all black, but mud-colored cargos and a heavy blue coat, which, okay, maybe should make Tony worry about what was still in store for them, but first things first.

“Welcome to the party, buddy. No idea what happened exactly. Yet. Yes, we’re on a ship, apparently we are all surprised about that. But can we please wait till everyone is here to start throwing explanations around? Starting over every five minutes does get annoying.”

That earned him a glare from bright blue eyes, but glares he was used to. Glares he could ignore. He could feel all three of them staring at him, but his mind was already buzzing, burning through all the possibilities faster than he would have been able to voice them.

When it took too long for the next person to appear, Tony started tapping his foot impatiently. Could the other two please hurry up?

Fighting the impulse to shout up at the heavens, Tony began walking up and down to at least have something to do. From the corner of his eye he could see Clint and Natasha waving their hands at each other in compact, precise movements. He ignored it as long as he could, but …

“What?” Too paranoid to keep ignoring all this waving and secret pointing at him, he finally snapped. It was grating at him, each second scraping by painfully and them doing nothing!

Clint’s lips twitched and Tony narrowed in on that. “Spit it out!”

He could live with whatever his mutated Atari had dished out - probably. His clothes were still normal after all, how bad could it be?

“You are aware that you look like 50 something and you have the most hideous …_thing_ on your face,“ Natasha supplied and even though she tried to be as inoffensive as possible it sounded like she had no intention to sound like that.

“I what?” he squawked and petted his face with his hands hastily. “Is it some deadly spider? Please don’t let it be a spider. Where should that have come from? It’s not a spider, right?”

Bucky had stopped in his slowly growing circle to explore this ship deck. “Much worse.”

Tony just stared at them, torn between vibrating out of his skin and getting into the details of how unhelpful it was to not tell other people important stuff like _what was on their faces_.

_It is stress_, Tony mussed. They were all just super stressed and needed to relieve it some way – laughter was a totally appropriate response. Tony could deal with that, he really could, but it was fucking annoying to be the butt of this joke.

In the end, Natasha took pity on him (or simply wanted to see what he would do) and sauntered over next to Bucky who drew the shape of the atrocity on Tony’s face over his lip and down each side of this mouth with his thumb and forefinger. Helpfully as ever, Natasha held up a tiny mirror she had snatched from somewhere and Tony just stared. “Sweet baby Jesus …”

Clint just sat on his ass and laughed for a good minute while Tony frantically stared at his distorted reflection and a moustache that seemed to defy any social norm. That was most certainly not part of the coding he had tweaked.

Any indignant rant was cut off before it began by the next _whoosh_ rushing down in a barrel of almost solid wind. Tony staggered back a step, the tiny mirror cluttering to the ground and breaking with an almost silent _plink_.

Even glaring boy who had punched Rumlow staggered back, mouth almost hanging on the floor and eyes as large as saucers.

“Stevie?” He sounded like his head had been knocked about with that big hammer hanging on the other man’s hip.

“Holy shit.” That sounded like Natasha.

“What … happened?” the blond man asked, swaying from one foot to the other, blinking slowly before he caught himself and stood even taller.

The next _whoosh_ cut of any answer the others might have had and brought the last one of their happy little group onto the ship – another blond man, almost as tall and muscled as the first one. While the first blond was all metal and battle-glory, this one was more …

“A spandex suit?” Tony muttered too loud and snorted.

“You’re the one to talk with that thing on your face,” he heard Natasha mutter, but he did not care in the slightest when that six foot something guy in front of him was wearing the glory of an American flag wrapped skin tight around his body.

“What the fuck? _Steve_?”

“Yes?” The second blond man in this ridiculous onesie answered immediately.

“Hold on.” Clint was waving a hand between the two newcomers. “If this is Steve-”

“Yes, it’s me. Who else should I be?”

Clint pointed at the second to last arrival– “Then this is …”

All eyes turned to the tallest member of their group. Even Natasha seemed taken aback by that turn of events, her eyebrows both rising in the purest expression of surprise that Clint had ever seen on her face.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Jane was more than uncomfortable with all of them staring at her like this. “Why are you all looking at me? Is there-“ She took a closer look at all the others around her and could not hold in her squeak of surprise.

Jane was laughing so hard she was almost doubled over, “Oh my god. Tony, what is that on your face?” Clint joined in and even Natasha’s lip twitched traitorously.

_Stress, it was all just stress._ Something about the brain trying to deal with too much information or too upsetting things. Tony just huffed indignantly – whatever this moustache looked like it could not be that bad. He had seen pictures of the 80s. Some fashion choices back then had been _hideous_; he could live with a moustache.

“Way less important than the fact that apparently you are six foot something and a man-wall of muscles.”

“I’m what?” Jane looked down at her hands and then further down, down, down a long way to her feet, her hands jumping up to her chest to grab boobs that were no longer there. “Holy shit … I´m _tall_. Like really, really tall. Tony what have you done?”

Tony’s voice rose in answer to Jane’s – and okay maybe he was a tiny bit annoyed with himself for not coming up with what was going on, “I don’t know, okay? I have no idea. I tweaked the old circuits of that dusty Atari a bit, but all this definitely should not have happened! I had no idea that this would happen when I started improving the coding, I swear.”

“Okay, slow down. We are all here, more or less looking like ourselves, but still what … the characters we chose?”

“Seems like it,” muttered Bucky.

“It does not only seem like it, that’s the way it is,” Tony answered defensively and maybe a bit too harshly. He was brilliant, it was his coding – well, the improvements of the existing code – but the game seemed to have a mind of its own and that did not sit well with him at all. Such things bowed to him, pliant under keystrokes and fusing, not the other way ‘round.

“See?” He picked up the next thing he could grab and threw it into the group.

Clint was the one to catch it, turning the small device round and round. “Feels real to me.” He handed it over to Natasha who just nodded.

“So, if we’re in this game, how do we get out again?” Jane asked, practical-minded as ever. “Tony, please tell me you know how to get us out again.”

“Weeeell” If she squinted, Tony almost looked apologetic. “Haven’t figured out that one yet.”

“Do you at least know what the game is we’re in?” Bucky wanted to know, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Not the faintest.”

“Great, just fucking great!” He turned around, throwing up his hands and walking closer to the edge of the ship. “That’s just what I needed.”

“I guess we have to play the game then. Unless you’ve fucked with that part of the coding as well?”

Tony chose to ignore that particular barb. Instead, he turned to Bucky who had wandered to the edge of the ship and was looking down. “Don’t wander off, soldier boy. No splitting up and all that in case this turns ugly. Haven’t you watched any horror movies?”

Bucky twisted his upper body back to them, flipping Tony off when a spray of salt water splashed on the ship.

“Holy shit.”

“Bucky!” Steve started forward, muscles he had never had before coiled with strength he had never fathomed. But all this new strength was not enough to catapult him to the edge of the ship and drag his best friend away from that monstrous shark sinking its teeth in his arm and pulling Bucky down.

“Fucking fuck!” That was Clint.

Steve was leaning over the railing, staring down into churning water, foam red with blood. Natasha pulled him back and Steve let her – not yet realizing that he could actually break away. “Let go! We have to- to …”

“No jumping into the water. Who knows what else is in there.”

“I don’t care. We have to do something. We can’t just … He’s-“ Steve was trembling. He knew Tony was right, knew that he was more likely to be eaten by those monster sharks than actually pull Bucky back up. But he could not just stand here and do _nothing_!

“What … what happens when we die in the game?” Jane asked, voice too small.

They all felt the weight pressing down on them – no one wanted to answer that particular question, especially now. Steve could feel a scream building in his chest, growing, pushing aside everything in its way to claw up his throat. It would not end like this! There had to be something-

The _whoosh_ came again. The others all looked up in confusion because they knew that no new player should arrive. Jane and Steve both looked up because they had never really seen this happen. And when the black cloud finally subsided, Bucky was lying on the deck, sprawled on his stomach, not even dripping wet from the ocean he had been dragged into less than a minute ago.

Steve was next to him in a second, helping him up. “Bucky. You okay?” He had no time to actually think about how strange it was for him to sling Bucky’s arm over his shoulder and just lift him.

“What?” He was swaying on his feet but got his bearings. “Yes, yes. I … what the fuck just happened?!”

“You were eaten by a shark and the sky spit you out again”, Tony summarized caustically. “Seems like we really have to finish this game. Dying only brings us back right where we’ve been.”

“That leaves the question of how many times we can die in here,” Natasha stated, always thinking of the details.

“What do you mean?”

“Think, guys. There is always a limited number of lives. What happens if we run out of our last life?”

“Yeah, let’s not find out, okay?” Tony decided.

“Great idea, and how are we supposed to avoid dying with killer sharks all too happy to jump at us?” Bucky was not shouting, but the leashed anger in his voice was enough to make Tony step back.

“Good afternoon. My apologies for interrupting, but it is so great to see you all finally arrive.” Somehow a man had snuck up on them (or maybe he had appeared out of nowhere – who knew with jumping sharks out to eat them), all dressed up in an expensive suit and a clipped British accent.

“Who the hell are you now, man?” Clint asked, all of them gathering closer to each other.

“Apologies. My name is Jarvis and we are so glad to finally have you here. The boss will be happy to see you. If you’d follow me.”

The man started to walk back to where he had presumably come from. They all looked at each other, Jane fidgeting while Natasha stared at his retreating back. “You think we really should follow him?”

“Not really much else to do, is there?” Tony asked, shrugging. He pushed both his hands in his jeans pockets and sauntered ahead. The others just shared a quick look.

“He has a point. At least inside there won’t be any sharks to jump at us,” Bucky summed up their options quite well, “Might as well play along to figure this mess out.”

They set out to follow the Englishman in the end. Natasha turned around when they finally had caught up with Tony. “Clint, come on.”

“Thought I saw something.” Clint shook his head as if trying to dislodge something before he jogged after them. “You think this is a good idea?”

“Only one way to find out.”


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there are some things that happened before this entire mess with the Atari, there will be some Interludes starting during the summer break and slowly moving forward to the point where the story started. Enjoy :)

**INTERLUDE**

Bucky had no idea why he kept working at that damn coffee shop – even the heavy lifting of oil-stained machinery he had to do at the mechanics shop was less exhausting than manning the counter during rush hour in downtown New York. _People, man_.

The only thing he needed now was his bed; and probably a year’s worth of sleep after today’s madness of caffeine-starved New Yorkers and the flurry of tourists who had too many places to be and too little time for waiting in line.

Bucky had had enough of New York hipsters to last him for a life time; all this ‘I’d like almond milk instead of normal milk, but actually, wait, you do also have soy-based milk, right?’ and ‘Can I have three different syrups in my cup but nothing too sugary’ and all these other extra whishes until their concoction only resembled coffee by name. These customers were harmless if they risked death by sugar rush, but those big-money brokers and lawyers who ordered for their entire office ‘and make it quick’ and did not even tip – the worst.

Toeing off his shoes and tossing the keys aside, he sleep-walked directly to his room when a wave of delicious sweetness hit him. His stomach rumbled with a vicious demand that could not be ignored. It might digest itself if he went to bed now.

_Okay, food first. Then sleep._

Turning back to their living room/kitchen, he stopped dead in his tracks when his brain finally caught up with his stomach. Sprinting around the corner so fast he almost slammed into the kitchen counter, Bucky stared at Steve and their kitchen, which, by some miracle, was still standing, not on fire and only a slight haze was hanging in the air. The opened window took care of the latter, but it did not change that _Steve was at their stove_.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up, ear phones looped beneath the fabric and neatly tucked in his ears, tongue sticking out while he flipped a pancake around. He shimmied a bit to a beat Bucky could not hear and poured the next portion of batter into the pan.

Still not believing what he was seeing, Bucky hopped on the counter and startled Steve so much that his best friend poured the pancake batter all over the hot stove.

That was more like Steve’s version of cooking.

Saying so out loud with a smile, Bucky watched Steve blush and hastily try and fail to get rid of the mess. Bucky didn’t move an inch to help him.

“Look what you have done! It was going so well,” Steve whined, pointing his spatula at him, while Bucky wore his most innocent smile and blew Steve a kiss.

“You know better than to try and experiment with food.”

“It’s pancakes!” Steve wailed a bit exasperatedly, turning off the stove and pulling a plate closer that was filled with an astounding amount of pancakes stacked in a leaning tower.

“Not for you,” Bucky countered, still grinning while he swung his legs back and forth and eyeing the platter hungrily. Steve’s brows were still drawn together behind his glasses.

“What’s the occasion though? We celebrating something?” he asked because there had to be. Steve knew better than to try and cook when no one was around with a fire extinguisher.

Steve shrugged, his slim shoulders moving up and then curving inwards, as the smoke of his current pancake disaster became too thick and his lungs rattled with a wheeze.

Plopping down from the counter, Bucky opened the window even wider and made shooing motions with a towel to get rid of the lingering haze. He just looked at Steve with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I know. All good here, Buck. See, got my inhaler.” He held the tiny thing up and took a dose. “And nothing’s up. Just thought you’d like some.”

Steve pocketed the inhaler again and pushed the plate towards Bucky, his blue eyes taking in the tired lines on his best friend’s face and the post-Starbucks rumpledness of his clothes.

“That shift is always a catastrophe,” Steve continued as Bucky pulled out a second plate and loaded it with one half of the lopsided pancake tower. “I just …” Shrugging again, Steve leaned on the counter next to Bucky, shoulder to shoulder, both comfortable in the short silence that followed. The only sound was the soft upbeat tune Steve was listening to that spilled out of his headphones that now dangled from the neckline of his shirt.

They decimated the miracle of Steve-made pancakes in companionable silence while still standing at the kitchen counter.

“Thanks, punk. I needed that,” Bucky said with his mouth still half-full, but finally feeling more or less like a decent human being again and less likely to throw a cup of coffee at the next person wanting their order to be done yesterday and not tipping their baristas bending over backwards to at least try to get their order done while juggling with cleaning duty as well because their colleague could not be asked to actually lift a finger.

“You got paint in your hair.”

“Yeah? You have coffee stains on your jeans,” Steve replied with a smirk, hand still going up into his hair and pulling at strands that were coated in blue and green.

When Steve was about to clean their plates as well, Bucky simply bumped him out of the way

“Cook doesn’t clean. Get your hair sorted, punk, before we have to cut it off.” Shooing him away with a towel and a mock stern face, Bucky turned towards their sink and started washing up. By the time Steve came back Bucky had finished and was already half asleep on their sofa.


	6. Briefing I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter block, the gang is led into the center of the helicarrier, they find out their strengths/weaknesses as well as what the hell this game is about.

**Chapter 5**

For the first time in her life, Jane (and almost Steve) had to lower her head just to walk through a door. She learned that lesson the hard way by directly walking into the hard metal frame with her strides still long from catching up to Jarvis and her eyes just adjusting to the semi‑darkness of the tunnel.

Jane rubbed her forehead where a red mark was already appearing. “I swear I’ve never been this tall even standing on a chair.” Her voice was reminiscent of far off thunder; it still startled her that it actually came out of her mouth. The height she could deal with – that was amazing! – the muscles were not too bad either, but her voice? Not so much.

She looked back at the door just to make sure it was not smaller than it should be, but Natasha and Clint passed beneath it without any trouble at all. It really was her then. She was actually tall! _Holy shit!_

When she looked at Steve next to her, he grinned, “Might enjoy it as long as it lasts.”

After a second of rapid-fire thought she grinned back. They were united in their silent mutiny of height. It was not bad being small – most of the time, she did not even care; it seemed more like other people had problems or some weird kind of fascination with that than she herself did. But being that tall … Well, why really not enjoy it as long as it lasted?

She imagined showing up like this at uni or to an interview. No one would be laughing at her thesis then. Wanting to proof that there was such a thing as an Einstein-Rosen bridge would probably be called brave and boundary-pushing if a man claimed such a thing existed. Coming from tiny Jane Foster though? Not so much.

She’d had interviews where she had been convinced and still was that she had only been invited because the company needed someone to show that they would hire women, too. Only if they would fit, of course, and which they were sad to inform her after a lengthy interview, she did not.

Professor Selvig at least supported her thesis. She had lost count of the times she had talked with him about some road block or a new method that might work better. Not once had he been condescending or demeaning. He listened, challenged her approach objectively to make her really think it through. But she knew that the professor would always have her back and so did Tony, come to think of it.

That startled her for a second. She approached the thought more carefully the second time around, but it still felt the same. Despite his countless interruptions of any of her lectures, Tony was never really opposed to her thesis. He brushed it off when he was bored talking about it, but he did that with almost every other topic that was not robotics or one of his other obsessions of the week. So he did … What?

_Tony is Tony_, she decided in the end, which said nothing and everything at the same time.

# #

There was not much to see. It was not completely dark, but the fluorescent glow of occasional light hid more of where they were going than it actually revealed. It felt like walking down into a deep dark tunnel that went on endlessly and where said end might be actually worse than the deep dark tunnel part.

Based on the occasional twitching of everyone, they were all fighting down the creeping fear that they had been transported into some sort of horror game and that any second now something would jump out of the shadows.

“Mr. Jarvis, where are we actually going?” Jane called to the front after Steve had muttered the same question.

The Englishman turned around without breaking his brisk walk. “Not to worry, sir. The boss is very eager to see you. It’s best not to let him wait any longer.”

“Very forthcoming,” muttered Tony before he jogged up to Jarvis to finally get to the bottom of this before they were eaten by some space alien or monster plant or something. “Can we at least get a name or something? Or maybe get out of these hallways? You know, outside was quite nice … well, apart from those mutant sharks. I mean what the hell, man?! Is that normal around here – wherever _here_ is?”

“Not to worry, sir. The boss is very eager to see you. It’s best not to let him wait any longer.”

“Please tell me he did not just repeat himself,” hissed Bucky.

“Me telling you that will not change the fact that he did,” Tony shot back, disgruntled. “Maybe it’s a glitch?”

“Tony, if we really, really do not need one thing while being trapped in a game, it’s a damn glitch.” Bucky’s voice rose on its way through the sentence, teeth grinding against each other.

“Then let’s hope it was not.” With that Tony hurried up and followed Jarvis around the next left turn, which led them to the end of the hallway which looked brighter and not as gloomy as the rest of this ship.

“Finally,” Natasha breathed behind them and nudged Clint onwards when he only stared down the way they had come. “Trying to remember the way out?”

“Still know it. There are also air vents.”

“Air vents?” She looked just as confused as Clint did by that statement.

“Apparently,” he shrugged before scrubbing a hand down his face. “God, just let this be over soon. I can’t take any more weird. Sentient games and man-eating sharks is where I draw the line.”

“You and the rest of us,” Steve piped up. He had slowed down when he could no longer hear their footsteps behind himself and Jane. “But it seems we’re about to find out.”

They ended up in a well-lit room, devoid of windows but with numerous incandescent lines of light integrated into the ceiling to make up for it and a huge conference table in the middle. Jarvis strode forward with long, confident steps while everyone else stayed close to the entrance, looking around, prepared to make a run for it should they have to.

They were expected by a figure at the other end of the room who turned at their approach. His look was imposing and even without the dramatic long leather coat and eye patch none of them would have really thought to refuse his order when he asked them to have a seat around the table.

“Thank you, Jarvis.”

“I’ll get the reports, sir.”

Tony, ever the person who did not really care for authority when he needed information (or at any point in his life, really), stood up again and leaned as far over the table as he could. “So you’re the boss around here. We’re all really happy to be here and blablabla, but can you tell us what the fuck is going on?”

The commander smiled like a shark and turned his full attention to Tony. “Ah, Iron Man. Our reports about you did not sugar-coat your personality; you cut to the chase as always. I know it must come as a surprise for you to be called for the Avengers Initiative, but we need all of Earth’s mightiest heroes even if that means we have to accommodate your ego.”

A quiet _what the fuuuck_ was floating through the conference room and Tony was fighting down the suspicion that they might be in more shit than they could handle. What the hell had happened to these Atari circuits?!

But Tony would not be Tony if he backed down from a seemingly immovable force. Most of the time he could drive them off – and if that failed he still had Pepper. Well, she was not here now, but the voice in his head that sounded awfully like hers would probably help in the case of his stubbornness not succeeding.

“Listen mister, I have no idea what you’re talking about. We literally just landed here and even though I know that I’m supposed to be this Iron Man dude, some pointers would be really appreciated. So what’s the Avengers Initiative?”

A tight smile from the commander. “I’m sure you already know everything about it. Haven’t you bragged on Twitter that you would never join even if we came to you on our knees?“ When Tony opened his mouth in protest, the Commander silenced him with a vicious wave of his hand. “Not interested. Your 'abilities' may help us here, but I do hope you brought your suit.”

“I’m not sure you mean the right person here, pal, but I’m not wearing a suit as you can see. And I sure as hell don’t have a suitcase with me either, so you might want to try that again?”

“What Tony means to say is that we just want to get back home again,” Jane jumped in, a veteran in how to navigate Tony’s antics with people who were in a position to actually order him around and not afraid to do so. “We just ended up here by accident and if you could tell us how to get back, we will be out of here in no time.”

“Ah, Thor, I’m glad our message reached you in time to come to our aid. With the Bifrost destroyed we could only hope you would find a way to come down to Earth. The problem, after all, is unfortunately your brother. We would have dealt with him without your support, but it’s always better to have someone on the team who knows how to deal with those Asgardian affairs.”

In that moment, Jarvis came back with his arms full of paper and folders. He handed them silently to each one of them.

Jane was still looking at the man at the head of the table as if he’d told her gravity was just a parlor trick invented by Newton to see the world scramble. A look to the others showed her that none of them seemed to be the wiser. Tony poked his folder pile suspiciously, but it did not morph into a men-devouring, ill-tempered file monster. At least not yet.

“We called you all here to retrieve something very important. The mission is a simple find and retrieve. Usually, we would deploy one of our STRIKE teams, but … let’s say this one requires a bit of a specialist approach.”

“I think that guy is serious,” Tony muttered into the round, waving a hand in front of Jarvis, who had finished handing out the files and was now standing motionless between Tony and Bucky. He was just about to poke Jarvis in the sides to see if he would get a reaction, when the pinpricks of glares made him stop his hand mid-way. He was used to those stares and well‑practiced in ignoring them, but maybe, just maybe it was not the best idea to make the people he was stuck with in this game develop a grudge. Or an even greater one. So he sullenly sank back into his chair and pretended none of it had happened.

“So, let me get this right”, Natasha said, glancing up from her pile of papers she had already skimmed through (having to read several novels for an essay within an impossible amount of days actually was a superpower she would never tire to use), “We get this scepter back and can go home?”

“Ah, Widow, cutting to the point as usual. With your resources, most of this will not be new to you. But remember this: To leave this game, you have to live up to your fame. Retrieve the scepter and return it to SHIELD. Protect the Earth with the power you wield and you shall succeed.” Jarvis chimed in from the side before seemingly melting into the background again.

“See, that is the kind of information I was talking about; finally something we can work with. Why did you not say that sooner?!”

“Rhyming makes this entire thing even creepier,” Bucky muttered from his spot on Jarvis’ other side.

“It sounds like we have to finish the game,” Clint mumbled, arms crossed in front of him and head cushioned on his files.

“Correct, Hawkeye. Your aerial support and sharp eyes will be needed. After you proved your skill set in Budapest, there is no other we would send in to act as everyone’s eyes for this mission. And Sergeant” – The Commander looked at Bucky and actually nodded his head in acknowledgement. Tony puffed himself up with the affronted energy of a fat little sparrow, but the Commander paid him no mind – “I am aware that this merry band of superheroes is nothing like the Howling Commandos, but it’s good to have someone on the team with actual experience on the battle field. And a shot like you can go a long way on this mission.”

“To leave this game, you have to live up to your fame. Retrieve the scepter and return it to SHIELD. Protect the Earth with the power you wield and you shall succeed,” Jarvis chimed in again.

“I’m assuming these files are all the information we will get on this mission?” Natasha asked, not even looking up from the stacks of paper to her left and right as she skimmed through the meager information again.

“This is everything we have, but we were able to recover the footage from Stuttgart. It took two of our best STRIKE teams to bring Loki in, but he still managed to hide the scepter at some point.” The Commander uncovered a hidden keyboard in the conference table and typed in some commands.

Steve turned to the next page in the report. “He killed eighty people in Stuttgart!”

Alright, this was just a game, but damn if he would not accept this mission if it was the right thing to do.

“Unfortunately yes, Captain. That is why we are glad you are leading the team – we have rarely seen a career like yours and SHIELD is glad to have you on active duty again for this mission. Loki is no one we should ever underestimate.” The lights dimmed and in the middle of the table a hologram appeared that looked like video footage.

“This is amazing. Holographic screens without any visible projection source,” Tony’s face was almost plastered to the table, cheek smooched and scrunched up to look beneath the hologram. Zeros and ones raced across his mind in bright flashes.

“Eyes on the prize, Iron Man. That bit of technology is nothing that should put you in such a fit of amazement. It’s the upgrade you have been clamoring for for ages.” But Tony did not care one bit, he was this close to the next century of technology, he could almost taste it (or maybe that was just the polish on the mahogany table, he was not entirely sure).

If he could only figure out how it worked, he could bring it back when they got out of here. Maybe tinker around with it in his lab for a bit. This had _potential_!

“If I can have your attention now.” That dry comment was followed by the hologram growing even bigger which had Tony almost in a fit of sparking neurons and schematics and fractions cascading in his mind. He needed this and if he couldn’t have it, he would damn well invent it.

The video was shot from some sort of helmet camera. The feeds of cameras mounted on walls surrounding the open street in front of some museum were interspaced with the original footage to cover each second of the mission from all angles.

“Someone’s the lookout on the building to the right,” Clint explained, pointing to the building on a second hologram.

“You had the museum under surveillance already.” It was not a question, but a fact stated and everyone looked at Clint and Natasha. The Commander only nodded, eyes fixed on the screen and hands clasped behind his back.

Bucky leaned over the table to Nat. “How the fuck did you know that?”

“No idea. I just did.”

Clint just nodded along when Bucky looked at him. Frowning, he sat back up and looked at the hologram again. People were streaming out of the museum doors – some running and shouting, others shoving people aside. They did not make it to the other side of the street.

Glancing up, he checked the Commander’s reaction. His face was still an inscrutable mask, but Bucky’s hackles were up. There was just something about this guy that made him uneasy, like a sudden bump in an otherwise smooth ride. Why had he observed the museum rather than intervene from the very beginning? Surely there would have been a way to spare all those lives – digital or not.

“We know Loki would come to the museum sooner or later; it’s where the jewel was on display after all. But our hands were tied – we had to keep our involvement to a minimum to not trip any of the German forces; especially since we strongly believed Loki to have had an inside man or more within those forces.”

“Whoa!”

People started running out of the museum, but there was one man who walked, almost sauntering, after them. The camera angle moved and in the next frame the man’s appearance was rippling like the surface of a lake. After the effect settled, his clothes had changed and the dark suit and sable coat had been replaced with leather boots and a green-black tunic that looked fairly similar to what Jane was wearing.

“That’s Loki,” Jane whispered.

“How do you know?”

“He’s her brother, remember?”

“Adopted,” Jane shot back, then blinked in surprise. “Apparently. Don’t ask me how I know that one. But come on, he’s the one with the evil grin and the focus of the camera. He has to be Loki.”

Presumably-Loki swaggered across the red carpet that led up to the museum, overturning a car with just a movement of his hands and ordered the people to kneel. When they did not heed his order, he shouted it and multiplied, cordoning the people off with his own replications. A satisfied grin was on his face as the people huddled together in the middle of the street, clutching strangers next to them or trying to hide behind others to get as far away from the man as possible. But all of them were slowly going down on their knees.

“I have a clean shot on him. Permission to proceed.”

“Denied. We need him alive. We need the scepter and the jewel.”

The clicking and hissing of radio static cut off the first half of what Loki was saying, but it had everyone on the street cowering in fear. Steve watched with rage boiling in his veins, as Loki walked through the people, pointing what had previously been a cane at some random person.

His voice was almost reasonable, begging these people to finally come to their senses and accept their fate as he told them that in the end, they would always kneel.

People huddled closer together, averting their gazes from the madman in their midst, trying to make themselves appear as invisible as possible. None of them dared to contradict him save one. He was bent with age, but his eyes were defiant as he slowly rose up.

People looked up at the man, fear and uncertainty in their eyes, as he addressed the villain.

“_Nicht vor Menschen wie dir._” ’Not to men like you,’ the notes in the mission report supplied.

“_Es gibt kein Menschen wie mich._” ‘There are no men like me‘

“_Es gibt immer wieder Menschen wie dich_,” ‘There are always men like you’ the old man replied fearlessly, pinning Loki with a gaze that had seen a world war started by the hands of men who thought themselves greater and better than others, who looked down on their countrymen and women, who built their power on the backs of others they discarded indiscriminately and on lies they propagated as truth.

Loki’s next words were cut off by the barked orders down the comm lines, but they could see him smile at the old men as he pointed the scepter at him.

The order was followed with a coordinated and swift attack by a team of five. Two kept an eye on the back of their comrades while two more stayed out of view and the leader of the team crashed into the circle of people and threw something at Loki. Aerial support was guarding them all with guns trained on Loki.

With an enraged snarl the villain pointed his staff at his attacker, but the other members of the alpha team were faster. They tackled him to the stairs.

In the time it took Loki to recover the other agents converged on him, weapons drawn. Unless he could take them out all at once, he had lost. They managed to subdue and handcuff him.

“We don’t know how, but at some point between Germany and the transport to our base, Loki managed to hide the scepter,” the Commander concluded and switched the holograms back off. “We have kept him on this ship for the last two weeks, but none of our teams could unearth the whereabouts of the scepter. And that is where you come in – human means do not seem to do the job so we need the help of the Avengers. Captain, what is your take on this?”

All eyes turned to Steve who just sat there and stared. As if from far away he heard himself reply with some analysis that he had not even considered a second ago. He stopped his speech to blink owlishly at the Commander, who pressed his lips together to hide a victorious twitching corner of his mouth.

“That’s our take on the situation, too. Agent Jarvis will lead you to the armory to provide you with everything you might need for this mission. Don’t disappoint me, Avengers.” With those words and a dramatic swirl of his coat, the Commander exited the room and left them with Jarvis again who waited politely at one of the doors.


	7. Briefing II

**Chapter 6**

“What the fuck was that?” Bucky hissed, leaning over the armrest of his chair so that only Steve could hear him. It was still disconcerting that he did not have to bend down to speak into Steve’s ear. He could deal with being thrown into a weird game – somehow; they had to if they wanted to get out. But seeing Steve in a six foot something body was more unnerving than Bucky wanted to admit. It shoved the equilibrium of their life perilously close towards the edge they had been balancing on for some time now; he could feel reality sliding away from him and not even gripping the seat of his chair as hard as he could stopped that vertigo.

“I … No idea, Buck,” Steve said (without the occasional too shallow breaths that were a phantom sensation now Bucky could no longer hear) and shook his head as if to dislodge some thoughts there. Even that looked so familiar and foreign at the same time it hurt deep in Bucky’s chest. “I said those words, but I had no idea what I would say a second before I actually did.”

Bucky was getting light headed. What if this all was some crazy concoction of his brain after Rumlow had punched him out? Maybe he was still laying on campus … After the last month, he could hardly fault his brain for this massive misfire of a hallucination.

But no, this was real! He was sure of it! He just needed some proof before he lost it completely – he knew Steve best from all of them, even with his tall and muscled new body and apparently no asthma or glasses, he was the lode stone in Bucky’s life and if he could find proof that this actually was Steve …

“How did he get to choose the leader of our little team of secret agents and … whatever else he called us?” Tony complained loudly and crossed his arms over his chest in an overdramatic sulk. Bucky was not even listening.

“Maybe your personality disqualified you for the job,” Natasha threw in without even looking up.

Tony was just taking a deep breath to deconstruct that statement into its individual letters and to show Natasha his personality first hand when a yelp and the scraping of chair legs snubbed that conversation in the bud.

Steve jumped in his skin as a finger poked him in the chest. He scrambled back. “What the-“

All eyes turned to them and Steve could feel the blush creeping up his neck. _That has not changed about him at least._ Even with that comforting thought Bucky still stared at him frozen like that, hand outstretched and chair shoved a few centimeters to the back by his sudden move. The creeping realization of what had caused Steve to do that was only slowly solidifying in his brain. _Way to go, Barnes._

“I erm … Sorry. That just happened, I had to … You were- and this could all be a dream, so …“ He was rambling, he knew he was, but by god he was allowed to have his mouth run away from him for just a second. The relief of this actually most likely not being some hallucination was quickly wearing off as reality set in – a dangerous seesaw that was giving him a serious case of whiplash.

He took Steve in with new eyes and did not know where to look first; there was suddenly so much of him. Briefly, he wondered if that was what Steve would look like if chance had decided to give him the body to match that lion heart of his. ”Holy fuck Steve!”

Bucky had no idea what he had been about to say, or maybe he just did not want to think too closely about that one, so the square box that had appeared next to Steve’s head just popped up at the right time. He pointed at it, then quickly got up and shoved his hands in his pockets before he could do any more stupid things, like poke Steve again.

_Steve was real, this entire thing was real …_

“What the fuck? How’d you do that?”

“What?”

“That weird floaty text box there.“ Tony sidled closer to examine it and passed a hand through it. The box shivered, but did not disappear. “Weird.” He looked at his fingertips as if that would help, but his fingers were empty, no residue, no actual sense-memory.

Natasha walked up to them and, tilting her head for a second, raised her hand and pressed her fingers precisely to a spot between Steve’s shoulder joint and his pectoral. The box closed in on itself and disappeared. “Apparently we also come with a menu.”

Steve squawked indignantly, going even redder, but Natasha just pressed that same spot again and the text box reappeared. She threw him a quick glance out of her green eyes that said sorry, she was not sorry.

“Strengths: speed, shield, tactics, smoldering intensity and heart-felt speeches,” Clint read, snorting at the last two items on the left side of the table. “Whatever that is, man. Weaknesses: None.”

“Tony, I swear if you finish that thought.”

Tony halted in his subtle approach of Jane and said the first thing that came to his mind, pivoting to look at Steve in the process as if that had been his plan all along. “How-how can you have no weakness? That’s just ridiculous. Every character has one. That’s da rulez or so I’ve been told.”

Jane glared at him for good measure, but it seemed to roll right off.

“As a rule I also should not be six feet tall, Tony. So I guess it comes with the character.”

“Fair point, Cap. Let’s see what this Iron Man guy has. Please let it be a plasma gun!” At Clint’s eye roll Tony pointed an accusing finger at him. “Hey, don’t pretend that would not be awesome.” Clint rolled his eyes even harder but looked slightly excited about the possibility of plasma guns.

Bucky’s lips twitched. A plasma gun would come in handy for whatever else this game had in store if those killer sharks were anything to go by. On the other hand, the thought of _Tony_ handling one of those made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. That was most certainly a combination they should avoid at all costs.

He shared a quick look with Natasha and she just nodded. _Good_. At least he had someone reasonable on his side.

Tony glared at them. “Just imagine the possibilities, Red. A plasma gun could have turned that shark into sushi.”

“Wouldn’t have helped much if it’s your gun. I was the one eaten …,” Bucky muttered and started reading the characteristics of Iron Man out loud, “Strengths: engineering, communications, armor, sarcasm. Weaknesses: self-centered, trust.” He paused for a second and shook his head. “Why am I not surprised? Tony, how did you managed to get yourself into that game but not us?”

“Hey, listen up you munchkin. First: You haven’t even really known me before today – I know my fame is spread far and wide across campus, but I don’t remember actually meeting you, so … how do you want to be a judge of my character? I’m not baring my soul to you before the third date at least so we’re clear!”

“I thought you were dating Pepper,” Jane threw in, but Tony just brushed her comment off with a wave of his hand.

“Figure of speech, big guy. Let me finish!” He turned back to Bucky. “Where was I? Ah right, and right now there is not much of a chance that you’ll even get the first date! Second: I’m not judging you or your pal here for punching Rumlow. To be fair, that guy deserved it, but what does it say about you two that you just jumped into a fight on campus?”

“That they were the only ones with balls enough to actually step up to him?” Natasha supplied. “That men are not totally trash?”

Tony swatted her words away as if they were annoying flies. “Fine, but that’s beside the point. Third: I have no idea what happened here, but I intend to find out. And fourth: Let’s see if you’re any better off, mister!” With that Tony stabbed Bucky in the chest to drive his point home and made the text box appear.

“Strengths: Botanist – well good luck there; we’re on the fucking ocean –, sniper, stealth, driving, interrogation. Weaknesses: coffee, driving – how can 'driving' be on both sides? That’s definitely not my doing! I would not say coffee is a weakness, it’s the elixir of the gods or as close as we will ever get and who-”

“Okay, Tony calm down.” Jane lifted Tony up, to his open-mouthed protest, and set him back down on her other side so she was a wall between the two men. It put him right next to Natasha, but Jane figured that Tony had some sense of self-preservation. If not, she was sure Natasha could handle herself, she seemed frighteningly competent in her dark cat-suit and her murder eyes. “Bickering helps nothing here.”

“Bickering? _Bickering_?! _He_ started it!” Tony tried to sneak around her, but Jane grabbed him by the end of this shirt with arms that were much, much longer than she thought (she was still shocked by the sheer size of her hands).

“You tinkered with the game but apparently what? It has a mind of its own? Someone else changed the coding before you?” Natasha asked the question as neutrally as she could, but there was an edge to her voice like embers hidden beneath white hot coals, it would hurt you when you were too close to retreat.

“Oh, I intend to find out, believe me, and then there will be _words_! But right now” – He smoothly turned to Bucky – “I’m not your scape goat, Barnes! Heaping guilt on other people has never helped anyone get out of a mess. So suck it up.”

Natasha opened her own menu and let out a low whistle, but frowned as she reached the end of the list. “Strengths: gymnastics, Widow Bites, combat. Weakness: Hawkeye …”

“That’s Clint, isn’t it?”

She looked at Clint who only shrugged. “I’m irresistible?” He flashed her his goofiest grin and got a swat on the back of his head as answer. Clint rolled his eyes and opened his menu, laughing as he read it.

“Well I guess archery, aerial support and piloting will come in handy, but I don’t think pizza and dogs are a weakness. I will carry this burden with as much dignity as I can though. What can pizza do to me? Make me fat?”

Jane snorted and opened her menu. “Here goes. Strengths: Thunder? How can thunder be my strength? I don’t even have a Faraday cage with me to help with the inevitable lightning. That’s physically impossible – I would just roast myself trying to-“

“Jane …”

“It’s the truth! Fine, fine … Tracker, astrophysics, cartographer. Okay, that’s some combination. Weaknesses: cape, pacifist. Okay? I think I can live with that?”

“And what are we supposed to do with that information?” Bucky asked into the round. He was met with an equal amount of shrugs and smirks.

“I guess we’ll see? Isn’t each skillset important at one point or another in a game?”

“Whatever, Rogers. So lemme recap: Sneaky and Sneakier here are rocking all black à la Matrix without the coats and sunglasses – a real shame by the way, they make the entire outfit – and seem to be some sort of super spies; your buddy here is a botanist GI Joe in blue, you’re a walking flag with no weakness apparently and Jane is wearing some old musty drapes over weird chain mail and has some power over thunder we don’t know the specifics of and I'm still me.

“On the bright side, no one is wearing a red shirt and we’ll all get out of here. Somehow,” Tony added the last word under his breath.

Jarvis seemed tired of their confusion and hesitation and took matters into his own hands. “If you’d follow me. I will show you where your weapons are stored on this ship.”

“Our weapons?” Steve asked. The notion of weapons sank like a stone in his stomach. They were in a game, but it still felt wrong to be actually carrying a weapon around.

“Yes, Captain. We also have your shield stored for you here.”

Bucky sent a silent _thank you_ to whoever this part of the coding had originated from. Tony on the other hand had to make his opinion known.

“Who still uses shields? Who needs a shield in a fight? Oh wait, lemme just take my oversized dinner plate and throw it at you! You just kick that guy in the shins while the shield is up and then kick it away. Done, you disarmed your opponent.”

“Clint, you’re coming?”

Bucky waited for the other man to catch up to them and scanned the conference room. It was that or strangle Tony to death.

“Thought I heard something.” One of Clint’s hands was up at his ear as if he wanted to adjust something but he dropped it when his fingers only closed around empty air and cartilage. “This place is giving me the creeps.”

“Amen to that,” muttered Bucky.

The others had waited for them and the sound of Clint’s hurried steps soon caught up with the rest of the group. His gaze still bounced across the hallway like a mad rubber ball.

“Admiring the décor?”

“Har-har, Stark. Just a weird feeling.” Clint’s voice was low, more addressing himself than Tony at this point, his hand inching up to his ear again.

“Welcome to the club.”

Whatever Clint thought he had heard had everyone on edge. It could be the only warning they got before being thrown into the next surprise. Bucky kept glancing backwards, but there was only more metal and fluorescent stripes running along the wall. Nothing to hide behind. And as much as he strained his ears, he could hear nothing besides their own steps. Even Tony did not say a word.

They stopped in front of a door that seemed more an entrance to a vault than anything else.

“Medieval torture chamber,” Cling sing-songed. Natasha swatted his arm to be quiet, but her body was tense from head to toe.

Bucky shifted his stance and turned his shoulder so he was half covering Steve’s side. Steve did not even seem to notice, he simply fell in step with Bucky as they usually did, fists ready and eyes observant.

“For this mission the commander will take nothing for granted. You and your team should be prepared for everything, Captain.” With those words, Jarvis opened the door to a room with bright, cold neon light and racks upon racks of sleek, black weapons and the odd bit of shiny metal. On the wall directly opposite to them hung the shield, showcased as if it were the center piece of a mad weapon collector’s collection. The lighting made the blue and red paint glow eerily. It was as wide as Bucky’s arm and looked heavy as fuck.

Jarvis motioned Steve deeper into the room. Brushing past his best friend without the slightest concern for danger, Steve of course followed. The room was small, full of weapons and until now Jarvis seemed harmless, so Bucky took the opportunity to sidle up to Tony and get some things off his chest.

“That’s Steve’s character? Seriously Stark?” Bucky hissed. There was a hammer sitting on the floor, for fuck’s sake! And that was not even the weirdest thing in this room. Steve’s outfit … No, he would not even start to think about all the things that were wrong with that.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Steve take the shield down from the wall almost reverently; he tested the grip of the thing, tossing it lightly from one hand to the other with an awestruck expression on his face while Jarvis explained something.

Bucky thought that if they had to fight in this game, then a shield was surprisingly fitting for Steve. He could not imagine his best friend firing a gun – Steve might run into any alley fight he could find, but he did not fight for vengeance or to hurt others. If bullies threw a punch at him, he would not simply lie down and take it – no, Sarah Roger’s son would stand on his two feet, no matter how much he swayed, and give as good as he got if that was the right thing to do. But no way in hell would Bucky say that to Tony.

“What?” Tony squawked indignantly, pressing forward into Bucky’s personal space so Bucky either had to take a step back or be up close and personal with Tony. Tony had definitely miscalculated that plan because Bucky planted his feet right there and stood his ground – if Steve fought for purely selfless reasons, Bucky (for most parts) did not. And it would take more than a slim, hyperactive, self-indulgent millionaire boy to make Bucky Barnes back down.

Tony looked surprised and after a tense second of silence took half a step back again. “I agree, the outfit might be a bit much, well … ridiculous to be honest. What was I thinking? Good questions; sometimes I even do have an answer for that one. But look at him. Tall, muscles, patriotic. Don’t know why you’re complaining. Also I didn’t really have a hand in the character design as I keep repeating.”

Bucky gave a derisive snort.

“Look, he even has a shield,” Tony continued, pointing at said shield in front of Steve emphatically. “A _shield_, Barnes! What agent has one of those nowadays? And with everything this Commander guy said and no weaknesses? I think he can take care of himself.”

The look of Steve with blood on his face and motionless on the ground (even if only for a second) still had its claws in Bucky. He’d had the weekend for the crimson to fade in his mind’s picture, but the color had only gained in intensity while Steve’s face seemed paler and paler every time the memory replayed itself. _Not happening a second time._

“You’re just enabling him. Next thing I know he’ll take on all the bullies on campus at once and _you’re_ not the one who’ll have to pull him out of the dumpster after being beaten up yourself.”

“Hey, that was once and I had them on the ropes.”

“Sure you did …” Bucky didn’t even deign to look at his best friend, but glared at Tony with pale eyes that promised a very personal meeting with the interior of said dumpster once they got back to the real world.

Tony held up his hand in the most placating manner he could muster, but Bucky still glared at him. Not even Tony’s most charming smile he reserved for fund raisers could abate the hostility Bucky was throwing off in waves. So option two it was, “Hey, I think Jarvis has some toy for me now.” Like a weasel Tony slipped past Bucky and hurried past Jane who was staring at the hammer at her feet.

Bucky stood there in the corner, fists clenched and muscle in his jaw ticking. He just needed a moment before he could turn back to this mess.

Natasha and Clint were stuffing their fancy outfits with all kinds of weapons they could find as if this was some cheap sale for second-hand books signed by the author.

Jarvis presented Natasha with a small box with a set of black gloves arranged like some crown jewels or family heir loom. Natasha took them out one by one and tried them on gingerly, flexing her fingers and examining the bracelet of torpedo-shaped objects.

“Tasers, very useful when fighting in close range and if you need to stun your opponent for a certain amount of time or knock them out completely. You can change the power of each Widow Bite here.” Jarvis showed her how to activate and use those things. The blue light when they were activated drew Tony in.

Bucky turned back to the smile full of teeth Natasha was throwing at her new toys. He wandered up next to her and- He did not admire the tasers, but he had to admit they were ingenious for someone like her. They would not know what had hit them. “Nice.”

Clint was just examining the quiver and bow Jarvis had put in front of him.

“Almost the middle ages, huh?”, Tony remarked, hands in his jeans pockets, shoulders relaxed in the most casual posture he could muster.

Clint snorted. “Way better. Apparently the quiver is full of different arrow tips.”

# #

Before Tony could hunker down next to it and examine it more closely, Jarvis approached him and handed him something that almost looked like a watch if it had fallen into a tub full of gold and red metal and was twice as broad.

“Erm, thank you? It won’t explode, will it?”

“It’s one of the suits you left on this ship in case of an emergency. As you seem to have forgotten to bring your latest model, this one has to do, sir.”

Tony narrowed his eyes and looked more closely at the piece. It seemed well crafted if a bit flashy, but how this piece of warm solid metal was supposed to be a suit was beyond him. Still, far be it from him to decline anything that this weird game was offering them. He put it around his wrist and the metal hummed softly before it circled his wrist completely. Brows quirking up, Tony thought he may have an inkling of what this thing could do.

“Now that you are all suited up, it will be time to start the mission. Remember, Avengers, if you wish to leave the game, you have to live up to your fame. Retrieve the scepter and return it to SHIELD. Protect the Earth with the power you wield and you shall succeed. You are our only chance now.”

Jarvis did not wait for a reply and they were left alone again. Natasha used the opportunity to stash away some more knives and Bucky grabbed one rifle at random, he was their sniper after all.

“I … I think he just disappeared.”

“No way. People don’t just disappear!” Natasha looked out the door after Jane had stepped aside, but the hallway was empty. They should still be able to see Jarvis walking down the narrow corridor.

The others looked at her expectantly, Jane worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, arms crossed over her chest.

“She seems to be right,” Natasha said, each word measured and slow, eyebrows in a slight frown and green eyes turned inward, “what if they are all just game characters? We’re obviously ourselves, more or less, but what about everyone else? They have to be part of the game. So they probably only stick around for as long as they are needed.”

“That would explain him repeating stuff. No glitch then, just their programming,” Tony muttered.

“Their programming won’t let them say anything else. If they meet with something outside their parameters, they just start from the beginning,” Nat continued to explain.

“Mystery 1, solved.” Tony raised a triumphant fist in the air.

Bucky seemed less impressed. “And that helps us how? I don’t think we can just click the help button and get a nudge in the right direction.”

“Yea of little faith-“

“Even you can’t magic up some help button, Stark. And you’re just saying that because you don’t know yourself”, Bucky growled. How the hell were they ever supposed to get out of this game?

“At least he did not lock the door behind us.”

Bucky leveled a glare at Steve that spoke volumes about how not funny he found that remark. Steve only smiled sheepishly, Tony had to admire that, but it only seemed to fan the flames of Bucky’s anger. Bucky turned away from his best friend, swallowed the urge to scream and focused on the problem at hand. Oh, how Tony knew that look.

“Let’s check those files again. Maybe there was something we missed or that this Commander did not mention.”

Natasha nodded and Jane seemed eager to leave the small confined space of this storage room as well. So Bucky apparently took it upon himself to decide for them and stalked out of the room, confident that they would follow. Maybe he thought they would be able to find him easily enough; after all there was just a long corridor separating them.

Steve looked after Bucky, but did not follow immediately. Instead Tony watched him fidget with the straps on the shield before he awkwardly put it on the harness so that it sat on his back like the shell of a turtle.

Tony suppressed a snicker and wandered towards the exit, snatching some random wrench that was lying around. That was more his kind of weapon and although he doubted there would be some ‘Who can build a robot the fastest’ challenge in this game, a good, heavy wrench had never been the wrong thing to bring along (okay, maybe not that one time he had tried to impress Pepper and forgotten about it until it had clattered to the floor between them, but in any other situation it was a sure win).

“I guess we follow him? Unless one of you has a better plan?”

They didn’t.


	8. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been asking yourself what had happened between Bucky and Steve that they are both not talking about, this Interlude should explain it... well it's the catalyst for everything. It also happens to be the reason for not rating this fic "Teen and up".  
*goes into hiding*

**INTERLUDE**

Steve chose to use the late summer light heating up their tiny apartment to get some sketches done. He only had to drag the easel out of the corner behind the sofa and find a good spot, prepare the canvas and get started.

His phone was propped on the kitchen counter, music pouring out of its speakers and one of the pictures of the New York street life on the screen. It was one of many Steve kept snapping randomly wherever he went just for that reason.

He always had liked this on in particular as it showed a tucked-away corner of New York dotted with small shops and family-run businesses. An Italian restaurant at the corner at the far end was still discernible by its red awning and wrought-iron chairs. A pub with a glass front neatly set into old, heavy wooden beams on the other side of the street to the front of the picture. People were milling there in groups, chatting, drinking, dancing to music no one could hear, but its rhythm and energy were visible in the curve of every shadow, in the way people moved.

The pub was what Steve focused on for his sketch, but his gaze kept going back to the couples. He had wanted to draw this particular close up for a while now. Just looking at the pub made sketches and schematics about colors and lighting dance before his eyes every time he saw the picture.

Taking up his pencil, he finally got started, zeroing in on what he wanted to do. His pencil left rough lines in pale gray that soon turned into the pub itself; then flowed into stronger, thicker lines – energetic where the others had been static.

He started to hum along to the music, tapping his foot and letting the beat translate into every line his hand drew. Soon pretty dresses with big polka dots and swishing skirts appeared, men twirling their dance partners around and dipping them low.

Smiling to himself, Steve kept drawing, immersed in the scene. If someone had asked him, he would have said that he could hear the laughter and clapping, could feel the heat of so many bodies on the improvised pub dance floor and the refreshing breeze blowing in from the big sliding doors that stood wide open. His hand moved and moved across the canvas, never stopping.

That was how Bucky found him: Electro Swing playing in the warm afternoon air of their apartment, Steve tapping his foot absently to the beat and sticking his tongue out in concentration as his hand flew across the canvas and left pencil lines in its wake.

Steve was too focused to even hear his best friend approach until Bucky was standing right next to him, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s when Steve was not drawing, but taking in his work so far. Absently, he tried to rub the black charcoal residue from his fingers.

“Looks good.”

Steve smiled at Bucky almost sleepily. He took a step back, arched his back and shook out his arms. He blinked a few times, returning his focus to the easel.

“Yeah.” He nodded and noticed that the inside of the pub was not as the glimpses from the photo would suggest. It had been transformed into an old dance hall that played swing and jazz fused with modern 21st century attire and industrial-style bar shelves if you looked close enough.

“Think I got a bit carried away,” he admitted, scratching his neck. Although he had to admit, he quite liked the result.

Bucky’s smile was all quicksilver and flashing blue eyes. “Don’t you always?”

“Shut up.” Steve shoved him aside good-naturedly, picking up a towel to really clean his hands – not that his t-shirt would look any worse with a few more stains of charcoal on it. Bucky’s reply was cut off by the embarrassing growl of Steve’s stomach.

“You’ve eaten anything?” Bucky was all serious again, his blue eyes taking in Steve and the empty kitchen counters before turning back to his best friend with a judgingly raised eyebrow.

“No. But I’ve only been drawing for …,” Steve trailed off, really looking at their living room. It was definitely darker and the sunlight had moved far beyond him, pooling in a tiny corner of their kitchen. He picked up his phone that had turned dark in the meantime and unlocked the screen briefly to take a look at the time.

“Oh shit, three hours. That explains some things.”

Although Bucky let out an annoyed huff, he was already moving behind the kitchen counter. Toast, salad and ham next to him as if they had magically appeared.

“Seriously, Rogers. What would you do without me? Can’t cook to save your life and also forget to eat.” Shaking his head, Bucky handed over the improvised sandwich to Steve, who almost devoured it in one bite.

“Knew you would come in handy as a friend.”

Bucky laughed, a startled, honest thing that settled itself right into the warm apartment. “Sure. It was most definitely not the fact that I’ve been pulling you out of dumpsters since we were seven.”

“Shut up. You were responsible for half of the times we were in those dumpsters, you jerk.” ‑ Steve’s words were met with a grin across the kitchen counter that was more teeth-baring than a laugh, Bucky looking every bit the hell-raiser he could be. Steve looked back down to the last crumbs of his sandwich, but he was not entirely able to hide the responding grin that tugged on his lips. “Anyway, you know I only keep you around so I feel good about the state of my room when I see the chaos yours is in.”

One side of Bucky’s mouth quirked upwards into that special grin and he hopped onto the counter. “Keep telling yourself that. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the game tonight.”

“What? How?” Steve gawked and leaned across the counter to get a better look at the two tickets Bucky had pulled out of his jeans.

“Louis had two tickets for the hockey game tonight, but can’t go.” Bucky waved them in front of Steve. “Sure you don’t want to reconsider why you put up with me?”

“It sure as hell is not your charming personality,” Steve growled, but there was no bite behind his words and Bucky knew it. He was blowing Steve a kiss, wriggling the hand with the tickets a bit more.

“Fine, you win.” Steve flipped him off, but was already halfway across the room, trying to stuff the second sandwich into his mouth while pulling at the hem of his shirt at the same time. “What are we waiting for?”

Bucky laughed. “Don’t overdo it, Rogers. We still have time.”

Steve turned around, one arm already out of his shirt sleeve and the hem riding up his stomach. He pointedly raised his hand holding the rest of the sandwich, stuffed it into his mouth and pulled his shirt off all the way before running into his room to get changed.

“Could you put the easel aside?” he hollered from down the hall, hopping on one foot to shimmy out of his jeans.

“Back into the corner?”

“Yep.”

When Steve came back into the kitchen/living room, he was already wearing the dark blue and orange jersey of their team, grinning from ear to ear, his hair standing up on one side and his glasses askew.

“I’m not leaving with you half starved. Sit, eat.” Bucky pointed at a plate with macaroni that Steve was sure had not existed in their fridge half an hour ago. “We still have enough time.”

Rolling his eyes because Steve knew there was no way he would win that argument, he sat down. He only waited long enough to see that Bucky was eating as well before he dug in.

“Amazing, as always,” Steve said between forkfuls of delicious pasta.

“You know it Rogers,” was the smug reply.

On their ride to the stadium they were joined by other fans, all optimistic that their team would finally win a match. After all, their harrowing stretch of games away from home had to come to an end. It was finally time to turn the tide for their home crowd. The Islanders were up against one of the better teams of the West coast, but people were optimistic. They could win – they were always best when they were the underdog, supported by their fans on their home turf.

Steve and Bucky were right there with all the other Brooklyn fans, cheering their team along to a shootout that left the crowd standing at the edges of their seats, voices hoarse and nerves taut. And the shoot-out proved to be another nerve-wracking ten minutes – for fans and goalies alike. By the end of it, both teams were exhausted, but the New York Islanders were falling over each other, waving to their fans, cheering with them and raising even louder shouts from the sections they were in. Steve, giddy from adrenaline and the hard-fought battle for victory, could hardly believe that they had actually won.

Grinning from ear to ear, Bucky slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders when they left the stadium. “First round is on me, punk.”

When they finally made it back home, they were both too tired to change out of their clothes. They didn’t even make it far enough to curl up on their own beds. Instead, they flopped down on the first flat surface they encountered, which happened to be Bucky’s bed, and fell asleep instantly.

When Steve woke up it was to the realization that he was wrapped in something big and fluffy and that something else was clinging to him for dear life. Blinking away sleep, he remembered falling asleep in Bucky’s bed. The fluffy thing turned out to be the blanket he had hogged. Again.

Trying and tugging the blanket back so it would cover them both was a useless endeavor as always. Bucky had learned the hard way that Steve would only hog the blanket again. Usually, his tiny body also sprawled over the vast landscape of springs and linen like he was six foot eight, which left Bucky nothing but a sliver of mattress. This time, however, Steve had seemed content with only the blanket.

After all this time, however, Bucky had become quite creative in not freezing his ass off during the night and getting back what was his. While Steve was wrapped in his stolen blanket, Bucky had inserted himself into that cocoon by pulling Steve against his chest and covering himself with a tiny corner of cotton Steve had relented. Their chests were pressed flush together and their legs were tangled up in Bucky’s attempt not to freeze.

Steve could feel his morning erection press against Bucky’s hip. Taking that as his cue to get up, Steve tried to extract himself from the blanket and Bucky without waking up his best friend – the process one they had fallen into after crashing in the same bad one time too many as teenagers and living through _that_ awkward moment. By now, it was something they shrugged off – it was something they couldn’t control, simply a reaction of their bodies. Why be ashamed of that?

This time his usual trick did not work.

Bucky pulled a face and tightened his hold on Steve when he tried to move. From the garbled words mumbled into the pillow Steve thought he could make out a 'too early', but he was not entirely sure.

He waited a second to let Bucky fall asleep again and was about to try again, but froze. Bucky’s hand was ghosting down his side, just fingertips trailing over the bony wing of his shoulder blade and down to the bare skin of his abdomen where his shirt had ridden up over night.

A thrill rushed down Steve’s spine at the same time as dread rose up and bubbled in his gut. Bucky was still half asleep, he reasoned, wildly shoving at things that clamored for his attention. He probably thought he was not at home but in the bed of some girl he had chatted up last night, thought that maybe they could have some fun between the sheets before he had to –

A moan escaped Steve’s lips and shattered his thoughts when Bucky’s thigh pushed upwards, creating friction just where he needed it.

He was afraid of what would happen. He yearned for more to happen.

Steve rallied his thoughts and tried to wake up his best friend before this went too far. “Buck.”

When he looked up, blue eyes hazy with sleep looked down at him, close enough that he could see his best friend clearly even without his glasses. Breath caught in his throat and eyes locked with Bucky, he could not move, could only stare. Chaos detonated in his gut, threatening to erase everything that had been before. He was a deer caught in the headlights, a man transfixed by the destructive beauty of a tsunami crashing towards him.

Bucky waited a second more, two, his eyes studying Steve’s face. Then, still keeping up the eye contact, his hand sneaked beneath Steve’s pants and underpants and wrapped around his cock.

Steve’s hips jerked and his whole body shuddered. He buried his face in the broad planes of Bucky’s chest, his breath ragged and loud in his ears.

It was not long before Bucky tightened his hold and Steve squeezed his eyes shut, stars bursting to life in the darkness before him. He tried to muffle his cry against Bucky’s chest, biting down. The deep timbered moan next to Steve’s ear rattled Bucky’s chest as it spilled over his lips and shot another bolt of lightning down Steve’s spine. He bit down again. Hard.

He didn’t even realize what he had done until he surfaced from the tidal wave that had crashed over him. His heart was still racing, but slowing down, and his thoughts were still sluggish.

Waiting for his brain to start working again, he turned fully on his back and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, he let the last few moments replay in his mind. _What just happened?_

Mortification set in immediately on the heels of that thought. His face was probably the color of a tomato, as he bolted upright, body twisting towards Bucky’s side of the bed and an apology tumbled from his lips in a wild tangle of letters and sounds.

All he saw was the green expanse of linen and a rumpled pillow.

Grabbing for his glasses, Steve looked around, but the bedroom was empty even with his glasses on. Straining his ears, he could hear the shower running. _Okay_, he still had some time to sort this out, whatever the hell _this_ was, and whether this had really just happened.

To give himself even more time and to actually figure out where to start, he fled the apartment to go for a run while Bucky was getting dressed.


	9. Interrogation and Investigation - Sidekick Mode I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint’s behavior is getting more and more concerning until he disappears; there is only one person who can tell them what might be happening – Loki. Meanwhile, Tony is doing some hacking to find out what the fuck is going on and Jane is trying to cobble together some device to find the scepter everyone keeps talking about.

**Chapter 7**

Some part of Bucky was prepared to see the entire conference room changed. When they returned to it everything was still the same, however. The big table in the middle, the chairs they had shoved back and not bothered to push under the table again, the files with sheets of paper spilling out of them across the dark wood of the tabletop.

One after the other, they reclaimed their seats and turned the pages one by one, scanning the tightly written text for any instruction that might make sense, any clue, anything really. Everyone turned page after page after page. Well, everyone save for Clint. He was frowning at the ceiling, eyes tracing the dark labyrinthine flow of pipes and cables as if they would spell out a secret if he only looked long enough.

“Clint.” Natasha laid her hand on his for just a second to get his attention. Worry was etched around the corners of her mouth and the way her movements were too precise. Just the slightest bit, but it made Bucky look up from his stack of paper and frown. He had never really seen her like that; even when Mrs. Konstantineva had them do an assay on cultural bias in Russian novels of their choice and had given them a deadline of one day to pull it off, Natasha had seemed frighteningly prepared to take on that monster of an essay.

Clint blinked and looked at her, not saying a word. Natasha pulled him up and walked a few steps away from the table to talk to him alone. They were not really alone, but their conversation consisted more of agitated gestures than words that could carry.

“What’s going on with them?”

Bucky shrugged. His guess was as good as any of theirs. “Nat will sort it out.”

That got him a few strange looks, but eventually they went back to their reports. Steve’s gaze lingered on him the longest, but eventually even he turned back to work. The sound of pages turning was a soft swish in the air until Clint’s shout made them all look up.

“For god’s sake, Tasha. You’re not my keeper. Just give me five minutes!”

Natasha stared after him as he stormed off. She took one step in his direction, before she stopped. Her hand twitched, but she forced herself to turn back to the room and sit down in her chair.

They all stared at her, slightly uncomfortable to be in the middle of this fight, but also unable to _not_ pay attention. She ignored them. Tony looked as if he had smelled curdled milk and Jane seemed about to say something but did not know how it would be received. Steve just gave her a wan, tight smile when her green eyes did flit up for a second.

“He’ll be fine.” Bucky was not a hundred percent sure if she was reassuring them or herself. If her tightly held posture was any indication, she was probably counting down the minutes before she went looking for him. That’s what Bucky would do if it was Steve.

The knocking on the wooden table a few minutes later was as jarring in the quite susurrus of pages turning as a glitch in a microphone.

“Tony.” Jane didn’t even have to say anything else; the exasperated sigh was enough and by now Tony had interrupted enough of Dr. Selvig’s classes to be fluent in all those quiet sighs and pauses between words that Jane seemed to use more than words.

“I’m working. I’m working.”

“Then why are you knocking on the table?” Bucky thought it was quite obvious that knocking on a wooden surface was not really working; then again, his half-day with Tony had shown him that for this guy nothing seemed to be obvious.

“I’m more of a digital guy, Barnes. Give me a computer and I’ll tell you the entire life story of this little game. There must be one here, the Commander used the hologram, but they still need to have the hardware to store and broadcast the footage in the first place. Besides, those files over there are just blank pages. Not sure what that is all about, but seems like even in the game bureaucracy is taking the piss.” He pointed at one of the folders right next to his elbow.

Bucky was fairly certain he had not seen that one before, but they all looked the same in the end. Beige folders with too many pages with tightly packed script and abbreviations that would give even vetted crossword puzzle solvers an aneurysm.

“They are not empty, Tony.”

“Sure are, I just checked them,” Tony replied from underneath the table.

Jane picked up the folder and spread the pages before here, studying them intently. Bucky leaned over, but he only saw white page that had never even seen a dot of ink.

“They are really just blank,” Steve chimed in as well, crowding in behind Bucky and Jane, and that also got Natasha’s attention.

Jane looked at them with a frown and pointed at the very top. “Here it says _Avengers Initiative_.”

They all leaned in even closer, but nope. Still no words.

In the meantime, Tony crawled out from underneath the table and checked out the cabinets at the sides of the room. “Maybe it’s some kind of Marauder’s Map.” He crouched down in front of a cabinet and crowed in triumph when he finally found something that was more his element for storing and searching data.

“I’m not a wizard Tony.”

“But you’re the cartographer.” Three sets of eyes looked at Natasha, who only raised an eyebrow as if it were that obvious. In the end, it really was. “Look, one of her characters strengths was cartography, right? So maybe that’s why she can read that report. To be fair, it’s not a card, but maybe something similar that will help us along.”

A slow grin spread across Jane’s face and she read the page more carefully. “It doesn’t show much yet. Maybe it’s only this one page we should keep.”

“Think maps in games, my brilliant sister in science-hood! Well, more like brother at the moment, but technicalities,” Tony supplied from the back, arms already deep in the shell of another computer tower. “You only ever see the areas you’ve already discovered. Everything else is blacked out.”

“Alright then. So far we have a tiny corner of the ship’s blueprint here.” Jane laid down one of the pages and before anyone could say anything, Steve had taken out a sharpie and was labeling the page. “Just so we know which one is which.”

“Quick thinking.” Natasha smiled at him and Steve blushed. Bucky frowned.

“This one seems to be some report on security. It says that they had to upgrade everything after…”

“What?”

“After they brought Loki here for questioning. They also assume that the scepter may be somewhere on board. They searched the entire area in Stuttgart and did not find it, so they concluded he must have brought it with him.”

“Guess that’s our starting point then,” Bucky said after they just stared at each other for a few moments.

“We can’t just walk up to him and ask him where he put scepter, can we? This guy is dangerous!”

“What other choice do we have?” Natasha challenged. “And if this is a game then we will most likely get a clue from the villain.”

“I honestly don’t know …,” Jane sighed and handed one of the pages over to Steve to scribble a quick note down on it. For just a second, Bucky caught a flash of something black on her forearm. It was there and gone again, but he was sure that he’d seen it. He leaned forward, reaching out for Jane with one arm.

Jane looked down at his hand in confusion. “Just let me check something.” The lines on her face deepened into small crevices, but she offered her arm willingly.

Steve frowned, but Bucky did not even see it. He was looking at Jane’s massive forearm, corded with muscles and sinew and twice as thick as his. With gentle hands he slowly turned her arm around and blinked in surprise when he saw the black ink starting from her wrist in thick, neatly stacked four-block Tetris bars.

“What is that?” Natasha leaned in to have a closer look at those bars. There were three of them, each about as thick as a thumb.

Bucky turned his own arm and found that he had the same tattoo. The only difference was that he only had two. He brushed a finger across it, but the ink did not move with his skin. It seemed more a projection than real ink.

“Our lives.”

“What?” Bucky looked up to find Steve’s blue eyes transfixed with the two bars he had.

“Our lives,” Steve repeated and looked up, mouth tight and chin slightly titled upward. “The shark killed you on the deck, but you came back because each of us has three lives.”

Bucky let that sink in for a second.

“What happens if we lose the last one?” Jane asked the question all of them were thinking, but none of them really wanted to hear an answer to. Answers like that never were anything to cheer you up. Especially if you were caught up in a game that had killer sharks out to get you.

Tony had wandered over to them, the hair on his forearms singed and smoking, a scorch mark sneaking around his thumb and onto his wrist. He looked a bit pale at the prospect of their lives being limited.

“Tony, please tell me that we won’t actually die if we lose all our lives.” Jane turned pleading eyes to him. Somehow, the deep bass of her voice infused her words with more urgency and it was almost like looking into the imploring eyes of a Labrador in form of a huge god of thunder; some animal instinct of Bucky’s shuddered at the thought of such a physically powerful person being afraid.

“Tony, can we actually die in this game?!”

Tony opened his mouth, but only managed to look like a fish gasping for water. “I-“ A weary sigh whispered over his lips, as Tony scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing oil across one cheek. “No clue. Nada. I suggest we also don’t try to find out.”

Bucky spun him around with a slight push on the shoulder. “You’re not sure, Mr. Video Game Genius? Not good enough here! Not this time.”

“I’m fucking sorry!” Tony’s voice was rising as well, pitched high with worry. He was twirling a screwdriver he had found somewhere, not backing down, holding his ground and slightly rising on tiptoes to be on eye level with Bucky. “You happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear? Tony fucked up and will kill us all in this game – that’s what you’re thinking?”

“We don’t have time to argue about things we can’t change. Tony, I assume you have at least some kind of plan to check … the coding or whatever.” Reigning in the anger and gnashing his teeth together Bucky looked to his right to find Steve standing between them, a hand on each of their chests, ready to physically jump between them should things get ugly.

“Bet your ass on it, Cap,” Tony said and took a step back, pointing at the burning shell of a computer tower. “Already on track with that. They must have some sort of control room, best place to start digging into _their_ system. Jane can help me find it.”

Steve nodded after looking to Jane to check if she was on board with that plan. She only shrugged her massive shoulders and shuffled the papers so the blueprint was on top.

“Right, I guess that leaves us with Loki.” He looked at Natasha’s grim face and Bucky’s still glowering one. “I’ll do it.”

Bucky’s response was immediate and out of his mouth like a bullet. “No way in hell, Rogers!”

Steve squared his shoulders, defiance and stubbornness incarnate. “We need to interrogate him, I’ll do it. I’m the best suited if that guy pulls any tricks. Remember my strengths and weaknesses?”

Bucky clenched his hands into fists. Trust Rogers to do the most stubborn thing! At the same time, he knew that shouting his lungs out would only encourage Steve. The only way he might be able to dissuade his best friend was by logic. He squeezed his eyes shut, thoughts racing.

“Interrogation,” he muttered, then repeated it louder as his eye flew open and he stared up at Steve. “That’s one of my strengths. If there is anyone suited for this task, then it’s me.”

“Bucky-“ Steve tried and oh boy, did Bucky know what the next words would be and how he hated that. He hated that concerned look in Steve’s blue eyes, the way his jaw softened and his shoulders slumped slightly. It threatened to undo that wall he had painstakingly built over the course of the last few weeks.

“Shut it, Rogers. I can take care of myself.” He ignored the way Steve’s shoulders rose up to his ears for a second and how his mouth twisted and then flattened into a bloodless line. “He’s probably in some sort of cell, so my two lives are safe enough.”

“Sorry to interrupt boys, but based on all the reports I don’t think Loki will tell us anything if we send a soldier in.” They both looked at Natasha, even Jane and Tony had stopped their hushed conversation and looked up. “But someone helpless and vulnerable? This guy gets off on power and manipulating people, he loves to create chaos and turning people against one another and then taking the front row seat to watch it all unfold. I’ll go in.”

“But –“ Steve started to protest, but Natasha held up a hand.

“Bucky will teach me. He has the skillset, but my character is an agent of whatever organization we have landed ourselves in. It should not be too hard to learn some new tricks.”

She held their eyes, chin high and waiting for them to see the logic behind her plan, but fully prepared to glare them into submission if they didn’t. Bucky had to admit that if anyone could pull this off, it was probably Natasha.

“What about Clint?” Steve asked. So Bucky had not been the only one who had noticed.

Natasha tensed. “We go find him afterwards if he’s not back.” She grabbed a piece of paper from the table and scribbled a quick note on it.

“Everyone happy now? Everyone knows what they should do?”

“_Stark_!” Jane hissed, but Tony just waved her off.

Everyone looked to Steve – well, Bucky glared with arms crossed over his chest.

“Fine,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair until it stood up every which way. “Tony, in this control room we have to find, I guess there will be surveillance as well?”

“Sure as hell.”

“Good. We find that one first and make that our base. Natasha and Bucky, you can start your lesson and then interrogate Loki – we’ll keep an eye on the entire situation form the control room. That way, we can jump in should anything go wrong.

“We will get out of here, I promise.” Steve’s voice rang in the conference room and resonated in Bucky’s bones. He could not stop staring at his best friend – he got the strange impression that somewhere in the distance trumpets were sounding. The others seemed to be under some weird sort of slack-jawed spell as well, as one after the other they shook their heads and blinked as if to clear their minds.

“Go find that room then. Jane, lead the way.” Tony pointed at the door with his screw driver like it was a saber.

Jane looked a bit uncomfortable, shuffling her feet. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Follow me then, just correct me when your map says I’m going in the wrong direction.”


	10. Interrogation and Investigation - Sidekick Mode II

**Chapter 8**

In the end, finding the control room wasn’t that difficult. They followed the best lit corridors until the labyrinth of doors and cross-sections spit them out into a huge room filled with the humming of countless computers and the clatter of keystrokes. Light pooled around their feet due to the huge glass panes right in front of them, offering a view of roiling waves and endless sky.

They must have ended up on the bridge as a small set of stairs went down to a lower deck that was filled with people typing away in three long rows of screens and computers. Even though almost every work station was occupied, no one looked up at their arrival. The typing just continued uninterrupted.

“In games, NPCs seem way less creepy. I can’t be the only one who finds them slightly disturbing.” Steve agreed with Jane wholeheartedly. Tony however, seemed unbothered. He brushed past Jane, arms flung wide. “Everything the light touches Simba-“

“Cut it out, Stark.” Bucky strode past him to have a look down the rail onto the lower deck, scanning the screens for anything that might help them.

“Code accepted,” one of the computer guys was saying, another two NPCs typing away furiously on their keyboards. Another few of them were checking some screens that showed complex schematics with an array of blinking lights that all turned green one after the other.

“Engines ready for takeoff.”

“Take off?” Jane squeaked, as much as her new bass would allow.

A deep rumbling started in the belly of the ship and seemed to spread throughout its walls. “Rotor blades clear and engines one to four ready.”

Silence followed and they all looked at each other with looming panic in their eyes.

“Surely this thing will not-“ Before Steve could finish his sentence, the humming became even louder and they could see the water in front of them churn and foam as if in a rage. In shocked and awed silence they watched as the waves slowly let go of the ship and the metal giant heaved itself up into the sky.

“Stealth mode operational and activated in three-two-one!”

Natasha was the first of them to recover and tear her gaze away from the fluffy clouds now surrounding them. “According to the blueprint there is a smaller room to the right.” She opened the door and found a brightly lit room that hummed with the sound of computers on standby. “Guess I found your command central, Stark.”

Tony shook the bafflement of a flying ship off like a dog shaking itself dry and basically skipped past her, dark eyes already devouring the computers at his disposal. He cracked his knuckles, twisted his neck to the left and then right. “I can work with _that_. Give me a second.” His fingers flew over keys and screens appeared, sent away again with a flick of his hand, eyes roving left and right so fast that Bucky severely doubted Tony was reading any of that text or coding that scrolled past.

The ship suddenly rocked to the side and Bucky skidded to the side before he grabbed onto something just in time.

“Ha!” With a wave of his hand, another holographic screen appeared and they all crowded closer. It was a video feed of a man standing patiently in the middle of a large fiber glass cell.

“Where on the ship is that?”

“Much more important - is it live?” Natasha asked.

“Hold on.“ Tony entered some more commands, muttering every now and then before he found what they were looking for. “Deck 3, door 5.” He showed them the schematics of the ship as well as their current position. “Take the stairs at the bottom here until you hit Deck 3 and then just walk all the way down that hall.”

“Right then, let’s see what this guy has to tell us.” Natasha turned as if to go.

“Better take these with you as well.” Two small headphone-shaped things were on Jane’s outstretched palm and both Bucky and Natasha took them.

“Earpieces?”

“Yes, just found them in one of my pockets. Don’t ask me how they got there; better than nothing and we can still keep in contact if we’re going to split up.”

Natasha beamed. “Clever, thank you Jane.”

“Anytime.”

“One question though.” She looked Jane up and down. “Your outfit does not really do pockets.”

Jane’s cheeks colored slightly as she leaned down to Natasha. “I knooow. Honestly, I did not even notice it until now and if it would not break all rules of reality, I could swear the pocket is a black hole.”

Natasha grinned her feral smile and patted Jane on one of her massive shoulders. “We are already breaking all rules of reality by being here. I will believe in magical black hole pockets; at least they are useful.” She waved the earpieces one last time before pocketing them and heading to the door.

Bucky followed suit, but a hand around his arm stopped him. “Buck-“

He looked into Steve’s eyes, his own hard and his jaw clenched. Steve looked down at his hand and immediately let go.

“Sorry, I- “ He struggled with words, frowning at the floor, before he looked back up with that damn concern in his eyes as if Bucky could break. “Take care, yeah?”

Bucky just grunted in response and turned around. “I can take care of myself, Rogers.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” Steve muttered, but Bucky was already out the door.

It felt like they had barely left the command central when Natasha’s voice interrupted his glowering. “I know it’s not really my business, but-“

“Then don’t ask,” Bucky snapped and stalked ahead, combat boots rattling the stairs.

Natasha followed him down more slowly, eyes trained on him as if she could see past the angry stomping and heavy scowl on his face. When he waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, face back into a forced calm he certainly did not feel, he only got a raised eyebrow. “No need to be rude, Barnes. You don’t want to talk about it, fine with me.”

Bucky grunted, but felt the words pushing up his throat, clawing savagely to be let out. He gritted his teeth and pushed them back down. He did like Natasha, but that was not reason enough to let those words out – he only knew her from classes. Hell, he would not even talk about this with Becca! The only person he probably would talk to was Steve … and that was simply not possible in this situation. For several reasons.

“So, how do you want to go about this?” Natasha’s calm question dragged him back to the problem at hand. His gaze slid to her, but she was looking coolly ahead, walking next to him, each step as sure as the last, arms relaxed at her side.

No sign that she would push the other topic. _Good._

He forced his mind back on track – or tried to. He had no idea how he could summon the interrogation knowledge of his character. Maybe once he started talking about it, he would know what to say. If Natasha wanted to pretend to be all helpless and out of options, then Bucky could at least help her with that – he was good with keeping up a front and hiding his intent. Recently, that had included a few bottles of booze as well, but he would omit that part – or how much that charade sometimes hurt.

“First lesson of the day, keep your face blank. Don’t let them know what you think or what you know. He seems like the guy who wants to talk, so let him. He may reveal something.”

Natasha listened attentively, while still keeping an eye on all the doors and corridors they passed. “A poker face I can keep. Should not be too hard.”

Bucky nodded and held up a second finger. “Two: Once they get talking, let them. Say just enough to keep them talking, not enough to give your cards away. Be vague, let them make their own assumptions.” He could feel her eyes on him, burrowing deeper and deeper. There was this strange pressure in his chest again to let those words out, but he shoved them down again and continued. “Most of the time people want to be right and you can play right into that. You don’t even have to do all the heavy work to convince them – just play the part they imagined for you. Let them see what they want to; you’ll be surprised how much can fly under the radar.”

After a pause, he added, “Loki seems like the person who will exploit weakness, so give him one. I don’t know, come up with some sad story, but nothing too exaggerated. Let him believe you actually let it slip by accident or that the words revealed your hand. Let him attack that and then base your further approach on that. Play right into his game, make him think he has you and when he gloats and holds your defeat over you, you have him. It may only take a tiny push and he’ll tell you why he is here.”

Bucky blinked. Well, that had not come from him, but his character. Natasha smiled at him with that cat smile that made you think she could topple world governments if she chose to – or just oppose their Russian history lecturer and see him squirm.

“Pretend to be a poor helpless girl, come up with some sad story he can exploit and let him talk. Did I forget anything?”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Bucky added too seriously. He did not really know how Loki would be able to escape his prison, but if he had learned one thing in this game already, it was not to trust anything it threw at them.

“Aw, don’t worry, Barnes. I still have these.” She ran a finger over the taser bracelets around her other arm.

“At least someone with common sense,” Bucky muttered, but apparently loud enough for her to hear. She frowned and her green eyes became suspicious.

Whatever words she was weighing up, she seemed to settle for the most diplomatic version. “You know that Steve just wanted to help.”

A bitter laugh escaped Bucky that left his chest hollow. “Sure, he did. That reckless punk would offer himself up as sacrifice if he thought we would get out of the game. He has not one shred of self-preservation in him when it comes to doing the right thing.” And he should stop right there, but the words just kept coming. “It’s not like that’s a bad thing – wanting to do the right thing. But by god, getting beaten up on a regular basis is _not_ the way to go! At least, he finally let someone teach him some self-defense, but look what good it did him against Rumlow …”

Steve’s bloody face swam before his eyes again. His skin so pale that the blood had seemed even darker, as he lay motionless on the hard pavement. Blood on his shirt and one eye already swelling shut. Bucky closed his eyes tightly as if to dispel the image.

“But you stepped in. You kept him safe.” Natasha’s fingers carefully wrapped around his fisted hand and she kept looking at him, making sure she had his permission to touch him. Bucky hadn’t even realized he was shaking until the tremors slowly subsided.

“I won’t always be there,” he forced the words out. Each of them burned like acid on his tongue and he could feel their burn right back down to his heart. It was the truth, something Bucky should finally make peace with. At some point in the not so distant future, college would be over and there would be Steve with Carter. And what best friend would he be to stand in the way of Steve’s happiness. He was not blind – he saw how they looked at each other (even if he tried not to).

“I hope Carter will though. She’s sensible enough to give Steve hell if he tries something foolish.”

“Peggy Carter?”

“The very same.” His lips twisted in a grimace of a smile that caused wrinkles to appear on Natasha’s brow. Bucky quickly pulled it back into an expressionless line.

Natasha’s fingers squeezed in a way that made Bucky feel as if there was a cord around his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter, that made his eyes sting. There was not much she could say – words were useless here, but she could let him know that she was here.

He did not meet her gaze, but he knew that something had shifted. Knew it in the way she let go with one last squeeze and started walking again, closer than before, their shoulders now brushing against each other. It did not take long for them to reach the door they were heading for. “Well, I guess that’s the door. You good to go?”

There was no need to go over the plan again. They both knew what to do. And still Bucky itched to go over it one more time, to hear Natasha say that she could do it. It was not that he did not trust her – hell, she was frighteningly competent in classes and out of them; he had seen her ace the worst interrogations by their professor when he knew that she had been distracted right before with something else. He didn’t ask, that was not how their kind-of-friendship worked, but he knew how good she was. She could get the information for them. And yet …

“You ready?” Natasha looked back at him and smiled, just a corner of her mouth lifting. He saw it from the corner of his eye, more a blur of movement than a physical thing. His gaze was focused on a spot slightly over her head. It was childish, but he did not want to see what those too-sharp green eyes had picked up and what that too clever mind had pieced together.

“As ready as I’ll be.”

“I’m right here. You know what to do if you need my help in any way,” Bucky repeated, inserting the earpiece into his ear and making sure it actually worked.

Natasha nodded, took a deep breath and put her hand on the scanner at the door. It took three seconds before the light turned green and the door opened without any hiss or squeak. Bucky followed her in, but stopped behind a massive girder. He could not really see the cell, but he would be able to see most of Natasha if she was close enough to the wall of the cell.

Natasha strode forward, quiet as a cat and head held high, her eyes taking in every detail she could. They would find out what was going on here!


	11. Interrogation and Investigation - Sidekick Mode III

**Chapter 9**

Steve hated doing nothing more than anything. It was during such moments his thoughts would turn against him. Those moments where he could easily get lost in an abyss deep within himself. Right now, however, there was not much else he could do but wait.

Jane and Tony were basically speaking a different language and Natasha and Bucky were down in the cell. Even if he wanted to help them, he was too far away to do anything – and he was afraid that using the comm system might distract them. And Clint was off somewhere; none of the security cameras they had found had picked up so much as his shadow.

So there was really nothing to do for Steve but to stay quiet and watch from afar. And unfortunately, that left him with way too much time to focus on other things. His thoughts kept swirling around and around.

He gripped the shield until his knuckles turned white, but even the pain was only a far off sensation in one corner of his brain while the maelstrom of thoughts churned ever onwards. Why did Bucky have to go down there and pretend like he had to carry everything on his own shoulders? What had gotten into his best friend lately? It was not only this decision now – it was the fact that Bucky seemed to prefer going out and drinking to a good night’s sleep recently, seemed to no longer give a damn about himself and was hell-bent on visiting each club in New York City.

Steve was still confused, but there was also anger burning in a small pit in his stomach. He hated seeing Bucky like that, hated it with a vengeance that scared him. And although the game had erased any traces of the dark circles beneath Bucky’s eyes, Steve had no trouble seeing them.

Sure, they’ve had their fair share of fights before. But nothing that had ever felt like this. Nothing that felt like a rift had suddenly opened up between them, leaving Steve on one side of it and Bucky on the other, walking further and further away. Steve had tried to give him space, give him time, but he had the sudden feeling that time was running out.

This had been going on for far too long now. Whatever it was Bucky was mad about or thought he had to do, Steve would ask him the next chance he got, he decided. There was enough left unsaid between them as it was – no need to add more to that.

“Jane, what are you doing there?” Tony’s voice dragged Steve from his own thoughts.

“Huh?” Jane looked up with a slightly sheepish look on her face, papers scattered around her with jagged graphs and strange letters written in some combination that probably made sense if you knew what they meant. “Well, after everything in those files, I thought that there had to be some way to track that scepter. It seems to emit some sort of unique frequency. We could turn in on that frequency and use that as a homing beacon to find it.”

“That’s my Jane.” Tony crowed from behind all his screens. Steve was getting vertigo just from trying to keep track of which screen to look at. “Science bros forever!” Tony held out his hand for a high five which Jane gave him with a head ducked in embarrassment.

“How’s our spy doing, Cap?” Tony asked and Steve fixed his attention back on the main screen that showed a large bare cell with only one man inside and the small red-haired figure of Natasha standing almost at the prison wall.

“Still talking to him.”

“What’s that?”

“Hm?” Steve turned around just to see Tony standing behind him, frown so deep it creased his forehead. Even Jane came closer as Tony leaned over Steve’s chair, keeping one hand on its back to keep his balance.

“This.” He pointed at one of the other screens Steve was sitting in front of. It was some of the footage of the millions of cameras mounted throughout the ships.

“Hold on.” Steve pulled the keyboard closer to him and enlarged the image.

“Is that-“ Now even Jane was leaning over them both.

“Fuck!”

“What is Clint doing?”

They watched in sheer dumfounded surprise as Clint ran up to a small plane that had just landed on the helicarrier. The doors opened and masked men disembarked, row after row after row. Clint greeted the one in charge as if he knew him.

They were not able to hear what was being said, but that was not important now. Jane was the first to recover and her command to relay the message to the others was executed within seconds.

# #

“There are not many people who can sneak up on me …,” Loki said with a curl of his lips that was more indulgent smile than disdain.

Natasha did not bat an eyelash, but crossed her arms and stood her ground a few feet away from the wall of Loki’s prison. “I want to know what you have planned with the scepter.”

Loki came a few steps closer, shrugging as if this was not important at all. “You are at least smarter than those other SHIELD agents; I have to give you that. But let’s just say it will all become clear soon.”

“So once you have the scepter again, what will happen then? You won’t be able to break out of this prison cell.”

A grin appeared on Loki’s face that made the hair at the back of her neck stand up. “Who says I will be in here forever? There are other agents who will come to do my bidding. Your precious organization is not as pure as you think.”

“No one will break you out as long as I’m here!” She stepped closer, not backing down from the challenge in his dark gaze and the silent voice in her head telling her to back up and back up fast.

“What a noble notion, but it won’t get you far. What will you do if you have to turn against your own?”

She tried to keep her face calm as the earpiece crackled to life. She could hear Steve’s voice, strained and too calm to be anything but forced. What he said sent ice running through her veins. It took more control than before to keep her face empty. Loki had given her the perfect opening to change her course of questioning though.

“You mean Cl- Hawkeye? He’s one of us, he would never free you.”

“Are you so sure about that?” This time Loki really smiled and Natasha saw mayhem and chaos in the curl of his lips.

“What have you done to him?” She did not even have to force the quiver into her voice.

A casual shrug before he leaned forward as if sharing a secret with her. “I would say his mind has been expanded.”

Natasha took a step closer, standing directly in front of him now. Only the transparent wall of the cell separated them. “And once you’re out, what will happen to him?” She let him see some of the turmoil inside her, her heart beating like crazy in her chest. Yet she forced herself to stay calm, not move a muscle.

“Is this love, Agent Romanoff?”

“Love is for children. I owe him a debt,” she finally said, hoping it was what Loki wanted to hear.

“The world hangs in the balance and you bargain for one man?” A flash of a smile. “I know you, Agent Romanoff. SHIELD may have taken you in and erased your past, but I know about everything in your ledger. That nice big house in Minnesota. And wasn’t it a lucky day when Clint Barton showed up at your doorstep, owning nothing but the clothes on his back and that weird sense of humor. Moving to New York was not an easy decision for the both of you, but here you are …”

Natasha could feel the color drain from her face. This was impossible. This character in a game could _not_ know this! No one knew – and her parents sure would never have told her if she hadn’t been old enough to remember things and ask questions about this boy who had shown up at their doorstep. Snapshots and flashes, yes, she remembered those, but enough to make her a target.

Loki slammed his fist against glass wall and the little jump Natasha made was not an act. Her heart raced and yet she did not back down. They needed just a bit more information. She could basically feel Bucky tensing behind that girder, ready to spring into action. “I won’t touch Barton until I make him kill you.”

“You’re a monster.” She turned around, curling in on herself, her voice wobbling. All she wanted to do though was punch him in the face and demand he undo whatever he had done to Clint.

Loki seemed to swallow her act right up. “I’m not the monster,” he cajoled, voice soft and reasonable, a caress to lure her in further, “SHIELD is, and you and all your precious friends will realize that once the scepter is delivered to me.”

“So that’s your plan.” She touched the earpiece and did not wait to hear if all of them were listening in. “The scepter is on the ship, those people who just arrived are Loki’s men. He wants them to bring the scepter to him.”

“Thank you … for your cooperation.” She left him with that, marching away as fast as she could without making it appear like she was running away. Her heart was a drumbeat in her chest, wild and frantic, and with each beat it demanded she find Clint and undo whatever Loki had done to him _now_.

“Where the hell is Clint?” she asked into the comms as soon as she had left the prison room with Bucky. Their footsteps thundered across the corridor. Loki’s shouts were following them for a few steps more until they tapered off until only the silent hum of machinery surrounded them.

“He disappeared from the feeds again about twenty seconds ago. The last time we saw him, he was talking to those men who came with that jet aka Loki’s men, on level 2 at the opposite end of where you are right now.”

“Is Clint working with Loki somehow?” came the follow up from Jane.

“Seems like it.” Natasha’s face was grim, as was Bucky’s. “I’ll find Clint and knock some sense into him if I have to.”

“Nat-“

“I can take care of myself,” she hissed into the comms. “Tony, please tell me you found something?”

There was the sound of typing before Tony’s voice came back online. It was distorted and muffled as if he was talking around a pen. “Hate to disappoint, murder muffin, but this takes a bit more time than I thought. There are too many fingers in this particular pie of ones and zeroes. But don’t worry, there is no code I can’t hack.”

“Famous last words,” Bucky muttered next to her, but Tony was their only chance to chase down that avenue.

“Buckle up, we are the Avengers or have you forgotten?”

“We are still just some college kids who got sucked into a game, Tony!”

“Pessimist.”

“Jane, how far are you with that detector of yours?” Bucky asked to avoid another monologue of Tony’s.

“Not finished yet, unfortunately. These things take a bit more time than just putting stick A in slot B.”

Bucky nodded, then remembered that she could not see him. “Thanks.”

“I can come with you,” Bucky offered, muting his comms for a second, but Nat was already shaking her head.

“No, I’ll be fine. I move faster on my own and whatever this game has done to Clint, I’m probably best prepared to face it.”

Bucky dipped his chin in acknowledgement. There was still one thing he could do for her. Bringing the comms back up, he spoke to everyone in their group. “I’ll keep the soldiers occupied and out of Nat’s way.”

“Brilliant plan, soldier boy.” Tony sounded more distracted and Bucky could almost see him waving a hand dismissively while he was tracking lines and lines of coding that ran down like pearls on a string.

“I’ll help with that.” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, but did not say a word. Of course Steve would.

“We’re all settled then,” Tony said into the silence over the comms. “Now off with everyone so I can get back to hacking without all of you in my ear.”

Bucky looked at Natasha for a second longer before he nodded, murmured 'good luck', and split ways with her, taking the right corridor to get back to command central. Nat took the left to descend deeper into the bowls of the ship.


	12. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically, that particular Anthony Bourdain episode aired in December 2013, so a few months before our story. But what good is being a writer when you can't take some liberites ;) In this univers, the Rome episode aired in September.
> 
> Also, I have to give a special shout-out for this chapter for inspiration reasons. Steve's doodles are based on the amazing art by cryptid-creations on Tumblr (and I believe Deviantart). Go check out the art if you like to get an incling what Steve's doodles would look like.

**INTERLUDE**

“I’m going out,” Bucky announced that evening, which got him a very suspicious look from Steve, his blond eyebrows draw together.

“It’s Sunday,” Steve pointed out from his spot on the floor. He had hardly moved all day, staring at the white page and few lines of charcoal as if they would give him an answer his run had not provided.

He didn’t bother to mention the circles under Bucky’s eyes he could still see. This weekend had been quite long and with even less sleep for both of them. But he could not feel guilty – an Islander victory had to be celebrated. But the thing that had happened after … that was a different story.

Still, Steve’s thoughts had strayed from the pages and pencil lines as often as not. Not even the hockey victory and drawing were enough to keep him complacent. The apartment suddenly felt too large and too small at the same time.

Was it just him or did Bucky feel different as well? That was the most persistent and annoying question that had had Steve sneaking glances at Bucky over his sketch book throughout the day. His best friend hadn’t looked much different, maybe a bit quieter than usual – but then again, lack of sleep did that to many people.

So maybe nothing had changed, everything was as usual?

Maybe that was all it had been? Nothing really extraordinary – it had just happened? They were friends for most of their lives; they had always been close … They had spent so many days sitting in the living room in silence like today. It should feel as it always had and yet …

Bucky simply shrugged. He pocketed the keys in his leather jacket and waved goodbye, leaving Steve alone with a tangle of thoughts he had no idea how to even start approaching.

Steve tried waiting up at first. Midnight came and went. He texted Bucky.

His best friend could take care of himself (by God they had been in enough back alley fights for Steve to know that with every fiber of his body), but that did not mean that Steve would not check on him.

The reply came half an hour later. It was short and a little bit in jumbles. Squinting at it, Steve finally put the letters in the right order. **See you at uni. Don’t wait up.**

Steve clenched his jaw and stomped to bed, his stomach in knots for reasons he did not really want to examine too closely. He put the phone aside and forced himself to sleep. His jaw hurt from the force he was clenching it. After ten minutes he gave up and grabbed the phone again when it seemed to burn a hole in his back.

**txt if you need a ride or sth**. Feeling slightly better, he fell into a fitful sleep because he was constantly listening with one ear for his phone to ring.

In the end, Bucky did not call or text. In fact, Steve only saw him when he skipped a lecture to go look for his best friend and found him at their usual lunch spot and said best friend looked worse for wear. Even the dark sunglasses could not hide the bags beneath his eyes.

His clothes still looked good enough to not raise any eyebrows from the university staff, but they told the story of a night spent out and of being slept in. Nothing unusual for a student, but Steve could not get rid of the nagging feeling that he was missing something.

“Rough night?” Steve asked sharply, coming to a stop next to Bucky.

His only reply was a muffled groan.

Steve poked him with a foot. “Told you it was not a good idea.”

A low growl followed that statement, but human speech still seemed beyond Bucky. Taking pity on him, Steve sat down and offered his coffee and the second sandwich he had packed this morning. He had never been able to stay mad at Bucky for long. “For the hangover.”

Bucky sat up slowly as if the world was still spinning and his head was pounding out a merciless beat to it.

“Scrambled egg sandwich with bacon,” Steve helpfully supplied when Bucky took his offering and sniffed it.

Bucky’s voice was as rough and sleep-deprived as he looked, hoarse from whiskey and shouting over loud music. “You trying to poison me, Rogers?”

They both knew Steve was horrible with food – for whatever reason food refused to be cooked by him – but there were a few rare dishes Steve managed without setting off the fire alarm.

Steve just looked at his best friend. “Sure am, jerk. That’s for going out and not coming home.”

A tiny smile tugged at Bucky’s lips. “Punk.”

Steve shook his head, a faint smile of his own on his lips, but still he kept a wary eye on Bucky. His best friend was wolfing down his sandwich as if he hadn’t eaten in days and he cradled the coffee like it was his salvation.

It was several days later and everything seemed to be back to normal again. _Seemed_ being the key word, as they had hardly spoken to each other and Steve had spent most of his time staring at his sketch book without drawing much at all.

With drawn up knees he sat on one corner of the couch, pencil waggling between his fingers, as his thoughts kept turning and turning and turning. It was more idle doodling than any real drawing, but it kept some of his thoughts preoccupied and away from the dark circles beneath Bucky’s eyes. Away from the sudden stiltedness of their friendship. Away from what they were not saying.

When Bucky came home, his steps were accompanied by grumbling under his breath that Steve knew well from the most annoying shifts at Starbucks. His converse hit the wall with a particular hard _thump_ that emphasized Bucky’s current mood even more eloquently than the grumbling had.

“That bad?” Steve raised his voice loud enough so it would carry into their corridor and could be heard over the rustling of clothes.

He was just tucking his pencil inside his sketch book to mark his current page when Bucky walked in. “You have no idea. I hate everyone, most of all Chad-Brad With A Hyphen.”

Making a bee-line for the kitchen, Bucky did not stop in his rant. “First I have to suffer him on my shift, which happens to be the worst shift of the entire day, by the way. Just how many people can possibly want coffee this late at night?”

“Some dinner is still in the fridge”, Steve cut in between the angry sighs, clangs of drawers being pulled open and pushed closed, and riotous clutter of pots and boards and knives.

His answer was a grunt of acknowledgement as Bucky turned to their fridge and kept on talking. “Then that little shit has the balls to call in sick five fucking minutes before his shift actually starts. _Five_ minutes, Rogers! He was probably hung over and didn’t want to work that is what I tell you.” Bucky pointed in the general direction of the living room with his fork. “And of course we could get no one on such short notice because everyone else thought it was their day off. Which left me manning this damn counter _alone_ for the entire shift. And Nick just shrugged as if it was no big deal. Well for him it wasn’t; he did leave when his shift was over and told me he left the shop in_ my capable hands_.” Bucky grimaced.

“Fucking nightmare, I tell you.” With those words, Bucky slumped down on the sofa next to Steve. The smell of coffee that always clung to Bucky after his shift and dinner wafted over and wrapped around Steve like a blanket.

“You want me to beat some sense into him?” Steve offered as dryly as he could and scooted over to give Bucky more than a sliver of their sofa.

The half huff, half laugh Bucky made was worth the attempt. “Sure Rogers. If you manage your Ma’s 'I am so disappointed in you, son' look then you might not even have to throw a punch. He’ll just fold and swear to never ditch his shift ever again, Scout’s honor.” The only person who’d gotten that particular frown from Sarah Rogers more than Bucky had been Steve.

Steve’s face broke into a grin and he lost the battle against the laughter fighting its way out of his chest. “How about some Food Network to forget this shift? I think I saw that Anthony Bourdain is on tonight.”

“Hell yeah.” Bucky made himself comfortable, putting his feet on their small coffee table and resting the bowl of mixed vegetables and rice in his lap. “This man is amazing. Which city?” he asked between bits of dinner as Steve surfed through the channels.

“Don’t know. Might be Rome. Ah, here we are; yep Rome!”

So that was their evening entertainment: Bucky silently eating dinner and commenting on some dishes he definitely needed to try, interrupted by the occasional outraged comment about what abysmal clients this shift had washed in, Steve pausing his doodling every now and then to look up said recipes on his phone and to send them over to Buck.

“If you keep that up, I’ll be cooking for the next month straight.”

“Don’t see a downside here,” Steve grinned and sent the next one. Then he proceeded to put a little chef hat on cartoon Bucky who had a battalion of gelato polar bears, a horde of wild minestrone Nessies, a lone tiramisu deer and gnocchi turtles to command.

Steve’s eyes were drooping by the time the episode ended, his sketch book already closed and on the arm of their sofa. When Bucky started jumping channels Steve could not be bothered to get up just yet.

“Oh God, I haven’t seen The Matrix in ages!” Bucky exclaimed when the current channel announced the next movie, starting in about ten minutes. “Wanna watch?”

Despite the late hour and the fact that the movie would end well past midnight, Steve nodded. “Why not?” It was the weekend after all, and they had nowhere to be and there was something to be said about the first movie in the Matrix Trilogy. He put his sketch book and pencil away on top of one of the drawers close by and sat down more comfortably.

Within the first ten minutes, Steve’s thoughts started to get muggy. They turned from Neo and the approaching danger and became slower, lulling him into a state where he was still aware of the TV and Bucky next to him, but also already half-asleep.

He slipped a bit lower on the couch, seeking the warmth Bucky provided next to him. It was like just so many other late nights spent on the very same sofa and something tight in Steve’s chest finally uncoiled. Tension that had seeped into his bones melted away at this simple, ordinary evening. It was all well, their friendship had not changed one bit. _That’s … good._

Less and less of the actual plot penetrated the fog in his mind and his eyes stayed closed for longer intervals each time. In the end, he did not even realize that he had claimed most of the sofa by having fallen on his side, warm and cozy and no longer going in circles.

“Steve. Hey, Steve.” Scrunching up his nose, Steve borrowed his face deeper into whatever he was lying on. Something at the back of his brain fired off a hazy warning at the motion – ‘_You’ll scratch the glasses, punk’ – _but it fell silent under the hush of sleep again within a second.

There was only a quiet huff of air and Steve was about to slip under once more when he heard his name again. “Steve, wake up.”

“Mmh?” Ever so slowly he opened his eyes, half his vision obstructed by his lower arm. Ah, so that was the thing he was lying on.

Bucky was kneeling on the floor in front of him, one hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “’S going on?”

“The movie is over.”

Steve’s only answer was a surprised _Oh_ that hung between them. Closing his eyes again, he felt himself drift back to sleep. A shake on his shoulder made him squeeze his eyes shut even tighter. “No,” he mumbled into his arm.

“Come one, Stevie. The sofa will be hell on your back if you insist on sleeping here. Your bed is much more comfortable.”

Another non-committal sound stuck in Steve’s throat, but even in his sleep-addled state he could acknowledge Bucky’s logic. So he pushed himself up reluctantly, with some help from his best friend.

“Good choice.”

Steve would be embarrassed by how much he was leaning on Buck, but he was too tired to care. And, to be fair, he probably would not have made it the entire way down the hallway to his bed. It was more than likely that he would have curled up on the rug then and there and kept on sleeping. His limbs were just so heavy as he shuffled along next to Bucky, half falling asleep again between one step and the next.

Luckily, Bucky did not let him stumble over shoes or run into their coat rack; he gently nudged Steve into his room at the end of the hallway. He would have collapsed into a happy, messy heap upon his bed right then if Bucky had not pulled him back.

“Not yet. Sorry, but you’re gonna hate yourself in the morning if you sleep in your drawing clothes. So off with them.”

Steve blinked owlishly with eyes that were never more than half open before he understood what he was to do. With a put upon sigh, he made his heavy limbs cooperate. He just wanted to sleep, but again he trusted Bucky to be right.

In the meantime, Bucky had located the drawer he had been looking for and had pulled out an oversized Speedy Gonzales shirt. Steve, still dressed in his paint and charcoal spattered shirt, but rid of his jeans, stared at it until his vision turned into a shrinking spot of grayed out colors and night-soft light.

“Steve.” Was Bucky laughing? “Come on. Only the shirt left, then I let you sleep. Promise.” He definitely sounded amused – or maybe his ears were playing tricks on him.

With the last effort he could muster, Steve pulled his shirt off. A struggle in slow motion that left him swaying on his feet and his hair in an even bigger mess than it already was from sleeping on the sofa. He briefly wondered where his glasses had gone. Had he just dropped them with the shir-?

“Here.” Bucky held the shirt almost beneath Steve’s nose as if afraid his best friend would not see it otherwise.

Steve took it with a sleepy smile, pulled it on somehow (it was the wrong way ‘round, but Bucky said nothing and Steve only noticed in the morning). As if doing so had erased all his energy, his body gravitated towards the mattress.

He could hear Bucky snort, but his blanket was pulled over his shoulders and the pillow was so soft that he did not care. He could barely hold onto a thought that had more substance than cozy, soft, sleeeeep.

Some hair tickled his forehead and Steve managed to wrinkle his nose while falling into a deeper sleep. His last attempt at a coherent thought was if it had been Bucky’s hand that had brushed his hair away.


	13. Interrogation and Investigation - Hero Mode I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Jane’s device and Loki’s cryptic words, Steve and Bucky make their way through the helicarrier. Their search is cut short, however, when Clint reappears, accompanied by masked agents who are bent on destroying their floating air ship.

**Chapter 10**

Steve left Tony muttering to himself, eyes racing across lines and lines of code and documents, and Jane tinkering on some small device and reading a thick tome she dragged out from somewhere.

He did not have to wait too long for Bucky to trot up the corridor. His face was blank, save for a thundercloud of a frown. Steve took a hesitant step towards his best friend and indicated one of the other corridors branching off the ship’s bridge.

“Tony said that way we will likely intercept these guys, wherever they are going.”

Bucky only gave a grunt as acknowledgment that he’d heard Steve and Steve’s temper flared. ”Like it or not, you have my help now.” He was no longer a skinny little boy who needed to be protected. In this game, he could do the protecting, he could finally really stand up to bullies and not be knocked down again and again, eventually ending up with a bloody lip and a shiner as dark as the night.

“Oh believe me, Rogers, I very much don’t like it.”

Steve worked his jaw back and forth, trying to push the words back down that were trying to fight their way out of his chest. The last thing they needed right now was to fight among themselves – but his temper got the better of him. “Poor you. You know that I am capable of making my own decisions, right?”

Bucky glared at him – he had to tilt his head up slightly to do so which still caught Steve off guard. “I’m very much aware of that. I get it – you’re the superhero now and eager to prove it. Good for you,” Bucky snarled, “But that is no reason to throw caution to the wind and actually get yourself killed.”

“We all have three lives, Bucky.” Steve tried to bridge the gap between them even though the words hurt. He knew they were true, but what was he supposed to do when the game gave him this opportunity? He couldn’t just sit on the side line and let everyone else do the work – that was not the person Sarah Rogers had raised and Bucky knew that damn well.

His words, however, seemed to have the opposite effect on Bucky. “Don’t you dare throw one of them away. We still don’t know what will happen when we lose our last one. So better get it into your head that you should also think about your own safety in this fucking hell pit.”

There seemed to be more to Bucky’s words and slowly, quietly, as if on tip-toes in a midnight-dark corridor, a realization dawned on Steve. “Is this about Rumlow? Bucky, you know I-“

Bucky held up a hand with a pinched expression and Steve let his words trickle off. “No!”

He sighed and took a deep breath, “Maybe. Just- just leave that one be, Steve. I already shouted at you about it and I don’t think it’s gonna help if I do that again. Just don’t pull any stunts here.”

For a second Steve considered saying something else. He bit his tongue instead and made himself nod. Bucky looked almost relieved and with a last warning look, he pointed at the T section in front of them. “Which way?”

# #

The coding was intricate and Tony would admire the beauty of it, were he not hip deep in zeros and ones and dead-ends of virtual reality he was trying to hack – figuratively speaking of course. (Okay, his real body was literally surrounded by ones and zeros, but mentioning that would hamper the comparison.)

Some of the strings he could easily coax to take the shape he wanted, to reveal what they were for; others tangled round his virtual self, resisting every step of the way. Tony’s eyes were burning, but he paid it no mind. He had a task to do and he would damn well do it! No one would ever beat Tony Stark at hacking.

It had taken him almost an hour to separate the original game coding from the second pair of enhancements. He had to give it to this person, they were quite clever, mirroring the original code and making their hack self-sufficient and adaptable enough to thrive in a new environment. But quite good would not beat a Tony Stark – anything that could be tinkered with gave up its secret sooner or later (with the occasional explosion on the way).

Machines had always been in his life – they were a constant, never leaving, never judging, never shouting – they were the reality he thrived in (and wouldn’t his non-existent therapist have a field day with that little insight?). This little Atari though? It was proving the most difficult task yet.

He snarled in frustration as he reached another dead end, slamming one hand on the frame of some console next to him. The gold and red thing on his arm clinked loudly, but did not even get a scratch.

Jane looked up for a second and had to watch terrified, as the red-gold metal of the bracelet spread up Tony’s arm within seconds.

She let the components of the homing beacon fall, not caring if they fell apart again. The horror of the light crawling up their bodies and sucking them into this game was still too fresh on her mind. No way in hell would this repeat itself. Tony on the other hand did not even seem to notice.

When calling out Tony’s name didn’t help, her voice became more urgent, tinged with a touch of hysteria. When he still did not turn around, Jane threw one of the bolts lying around at him. It pinged of and clattered to the floor, but it had achieved its purpose. Tony tore himself away from the screens around him to look at her. “Yes?”

She flapped her hand up and down his body, vaguely indicating everything of him. Tony looked down at himself and his brows furrowed. Yet he did not seem as concerned as he should be in such a situation. Instead, he turned his arm this way and that, stretched one leg in front of him and then the other to have a look at the metal that had enveloped him.

“Tony!”

“Don’t worry – I think. Jarvis gave it to me so it should not kill me, right?”

“That’s not really reassuring Tony!” Jane was palming her hammer nervously, but apart from maybe denting the metal and very likely shattering Tony’s bones, it would not really help that much.

“Tony?” Jane carefully nudged the metal with a screwdriver. At least he had not disappeared; but Jane was not really sure that was so much better. Who knew what this metal thing with a mind of its own would do.

“Hm.” Slowly Tony moved one hand, then the other. Testing the flexibility of this armor – because that was what it looked like to Jane. Not some old medieval knight’s armor, all plates and chain mail, but something born in the twentyfirst century. “I guess that’s what Jarvis meant by suit. Seems more like some advanced suit of armor hooked up to the game itself.”

Tony’s eyes skimmed across the different interfaces on the inside of his face plate. There was a diagram of the suit itself and some diagrams about power level and stability. When he turned to look at Jane, one of the screens adjusted, scanning her and displaying a wealth of information about her character in this game. “Useful.”

“It’s not eating you or something?” The concern on her face was almost comical, but Tony refrained from cracking a joke. People always said he could not be sensible if his life depended on it – well, fuck them, he could be perfectly sensible if he wanted to be.

All good intentions left aside, he still barked a laugh. No one could be that good right? And the look on Jane’s broad face was just too comical because it was not actually her real face but that of some Norse god. Besides, Jane _knew_ him – she was used to his antics by now. Unlike other morons in her physics lecture, she actually challenged the status quo and was not too afraid to push things beyond the known. Tony respected that in her – well, that and the fact that she had not bashed his head in with a frying pan; although she had come quite close one time.

He tried to open the face plate to actually see her, but it did not move. “Stupid thing. How do I get-“

“Sir, you just have to give the command. The armor is tuned to your system, a non-verbal command usually suffices, but you can also verbalize it. If all else fails, there is a small button on the lower end of your left arm.”

“Holy shit …” Tony did as Jarvis’ voice told him to and was greeted with fresh air a second later. “You did not hear that voice, right?”

Jane was looking at him with concern in her eyes, but Tony already waved her off. “Okay, the suit has its own AI then. That’s … somewhat disturbing but who am I kidding. This is the best shit ever after the invention of coffee.”

“An AI?”

“Yep.” Tony popped the p while examining his armor, starting with the repulsors on each gauntlet. “Calls itself Jarvis. Not sure if it’s our British friend or if it just happens to have the same name. I don’t think Jarvis is that common a name, do you?”

“Tony, focus! This is not …” She closed her eyes for a second and sighed. “Well, it is technically a game, but that is not the point. I need more than your general enthusiasm to be convinced that this … thing is actually safe. We don’t even know what it can do.”

“I can help with the last one – I was always an advocate of 'trial and error' anyway. Makes experiments more personal. Jarvis, do we have some sort of manual. What can this tin can can do?”

“There is an elaborate run down of each function you built into this suit with the appropriate upgrades, sir. However, to save some time, could I suggest to provide sir with the most important functions of the suit?”

“I’m all ears.” Tony grinned whereas Jane’ frown deepened. “Okay, seems you really can’t hear him. He’s giving me a rundown of 'Top 10 Things This Suit Can Do',” he explained to her.

“Such as?”

Tony listened for a second before he held up one of his arms, fingers loosely balled into a fist and pointing his arm at Jane.

“Hold on a second. Jarvis, nothing is happening here. It’s alright, Jane. Just testing the scanning function … well, hopefully. Jarvis said this thing could also shoot some sort of energy beam out of its hands.”

“Suuuuuure. Why are you scanning me then?”

“Ah, working now!” A small piece on the back of his hand lifted itself up from the smooth gold plating and three short beeps sounded as a light beam tracked down Jane’s body top to bottom.

“Scanning complete, sir. Would you like to focus on any feature in particular or have a general analysis?”

“See,” Tony grinned from ear to ear, “totally safe and you didn’t get blown up. Why have I never thought of making such a suit? This is the best thing since Pepper actually coming on a date with me.”

“It’s still a potentially dangerous thing we don’t know the first thing about. What if it’s radioactive?”

“No risk, no fun. And puhlease – if it were radioactive I probably would be dead by now. Not dead, so no nuclear core.”

“I can confirm, sir. This suit is run by a mini arc reactor that has not used uranium since its first model.”

Tony beamed and passed on the happy news to Jane. “I’d rather have an error margin that is as small as possible and knowing about the expected malfunctions and side effects than testing this blind.”

“Oh come on. If I promise to test some of the features under your supervision, can I keep it then?” He batted his eyelashes at her. “Pretty, pretty please.”

Jane stared at him in bewilderment, before she shook her head in resignation. Only Tony Stark could be overjoyed at having an AI in a metal suit of armor. She wasn’t even sure if he had ever seen any of the dystopian movies where AIs enslaved humanity or if he just willfully ignored those. “You’re really some kind of person.”

Yep, she was definitely one of the few people who had the patience to stomach Tony and the intellect to not bore him. Tony grinned. “One and only. Now lemme see if I can’t find out some more things about this baby here and what it can do.”

“What about the hacking?”

Tony pursed his lips, eyes grave and all humor gone. “Not that promising. Whoever had their hands on this poor Atari first did a good job, I have to say it. There are dead ends within dead ends and traps and loops of coding that go back on themselves. But I may have their signature. So if anything new comes up from them, I’ll know. How’s the homing beacon coming along?”

Jane looked back to her station with a look of concern. A genuine grin split her face as she saw that the drop to the floor had not really damaged her work so far. “Almost done. Just need to make some more adjustments.”

“I knew I could count on you; work your magic.”

# #

Natasha crept through the corridors on silent feet. Calling out was useless and would most certainly draw unwanted attention to herself. So at the moment, this stealth mode suited her just fine. The longer she remained unnoticed, the bigger her chances were of actually finding out where Clint was.

As one corridor turned into the next, into the next, into the next she was slowly getting frustrated. The ship was not that huge, but it might still take hours to actually come across Clint if she continued like this. She was just pausing at one intersection to decide if she should go further up or deeper down into the ship when she looked up and saw the dim reflection of muted metal running above her.

“Ventilation shafts,” she muttered.

She followed it down the corridor until- _Yes, right there!_

She seized up the height and angle, checked the walls and ran one of her gloved hands over one of them to test the grip. With her boots, she should have no problem with slipping – at least something this game had gotten right about her outfit. And there, yes, she did have a tiny screwdriver in a pocket. _How convenient_.

She took some steps back, keeping an eye on the grate that allowed fresh air to flow into this corridor. Shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, she leaned forward. Each muscle in her legs coiled tight before she catapulted herself forward in four long strides. Vaulting up the left wall, she jumped further up to the right one with her next step and then lunged for the grate.

With a pleased smile, she gripped the metal bars as hard as she could until she was sure she would not fall back down. Next up were the screws. It was slow work and her arm was shaking and burning by the end of it, but eventually she landed on the floor of the corridor again with the lid in her hands.

Shaking her aching arm to loosen the muscles, she took her previous position four steps into the corridor. With the same technique she hoisted herself up and into the ventilation shaft and started crawling.

It felt unnatural how at ease this body seemed stealing through shadows. She was no klutz herself and climbing things had never been a problem (especially if you lived with Clint) but if she didn’t focus too much on what she was actually planning to do, this Black Widow character was already down the next corridor and had infiltrated the next room unnoticed. She was slowly starting to think that her character was not only a spy but some sort of super spy – maybe she had been bitten by a spider as well.

At the next intersection, she decided to go deeper into the ship. The machine room would be the perfect place to sabotage the helicarrier. She opened her comms to Jane (Tony was most certainly too busy to listen in and she did not want to give Steve and Bucky away should they be just around the corner of some enemy agents) and told her where she was headed.

Jane provided some more directions after searching for the blueprint that included the ventilation system. “We haven’t seen anyone on the cameras heading that way, but there is not that much camera coverage in the machine room. You’ll be on your own in there.”

“Got it, thanks for the warning.”

She turned her comms off again and resumed crawling. At least the vents were clear of any cobwebs. Not that she would have minded, but it was so much easier to not also have to worry about eight-legged company and sticky webbing everywhere.

After several left and right turns, she could feel the hum of the machinery in the metal beneath her palms and knees. The temperature had increased too and some of her hair was beginning to stick to the side of her face. At the next junction she heard steps from below. Freezing, she strained her ears to hear more, but the noise of the machines was too loud to hear anything more than the _clunk-clunk-clunk_ of heavy boots on metal.

She crawled forward and found the next grate. Pressing her face down, she looked at the room beneath her. There was no one in the little square she could see. Even if she turned her face as far as she could go, everything was empty down there.

Slowly, she pushed the grate down, turned it, pulled it up and pushed the grate up next to her. All the while careful to not let the metal clink on the vent metal floor or walls.

Braced over the open grate, she poked her head out carefully. Only a few inches at first. Then, when there was no one to see, she pushed her head further out, turning left and right. Aside from big metal tubes running back and forth and the huge bulk of machinery draped in shadows and blinking lights, she was alone.

Natasha was close enough to the position Jane had given her, so she would start searching the floor outside of the air vents. Crouching low when she landed on the metal service walkway about ten feet above the floor, she counted to ten, every muscle tense and ready to spring into action should someone come around the corner.

Getting up, she moved down the walkway just as carefully, putting one foot in front of the other without making a sound. Below her she could hear the occasional chatter of the soldiers who had come to the helicarrier. Whatever they were here for, they did not seem to have found it yet, nor were they in a very big hurry to retrieve it. None of them ever looked up.

Natasha carried on, unseen and unheard. If the soldiers had paid any attention to the moving shadows around them, they would have seen a slim black form passing from one bulking shadow to the next, peeling away from and melting into other, darker shadows within seconds.

The third corner she took, she finally encountered someone. It took her only a second to recognize the broad set of Clint’s shoulders and the mop of disheveled shaggy blond hair. She didn’t need to see the quiver he had on his back or the bow in his hands.

Ridiculous as it was, she held her breath. If Clint had not heard her so far, however, he would not now. Especially if she was standing still. One of her hands crept up to the comms in her ear to make sure it was turned off. She also hazarded another glance back and one down to look for any soldiers, but so far, she could see no one. Satisfied, she steeled herself for what would happen next.

They didn’t really know what had made him greet those soldiers. Natasha severely doubted that the soldiers were any sort of back up for them based on the information they had found in the files. It was much likelier that the soldiers were their opponents, meant to test them to achieve the next level, but that only made any possible explanation of Clint’s behavior more far-flung. Why would he willingly aid the game’s own villains?

In the end, she approached him, letting her steps make the same _clunk-clunk-clunk_ sounds as his. The moment he realized that his steps seemed to have a weird echo, his shoulders tensed and the hand on his bow twitched, gripping it harder.

“Clint, it’s me.” Amidst the bellowing and humming of all those machines around them, her voice was nothing more than a whisper. It would only carry to Clint. It might not have been the smartest move to start with that, maybe she should have hit him over the head first and then asked questions. But this was _Clint_! She could not-

She did not know what she was expecting, but Clint whirling around, drawing the bowstring back to his cheek and aiming an arrow at her was not at the top of her positive outcomes list.

She dodged the arrow just in time because, even if it tore at her heart, some part of her had been prepared for such a greeting (the sad thing was, she didn’t even know if it was her Black Widow character or herself). Natasha had assumed it would be fists, but an attack was an attack.

Not letting herself think too much, she simply reacted. With the momentum of her twisting to the side, she pushed out her other elbow to hit Clint in the stomach. He stumbled back with a soundless gasp and she kept coming, trying to land another punch.

Clint deflected that one, wrapping his hand around her fist and whacking the heavy bow over her head. Momentarily having white stars explode before her eyes, Natasha took a step back, but Clint was right here. He kept advancing, his hand still gripping her arm so hard she knew she would have bruises there to show for it later.

In a desperate attempt to get away, to get some distance between them, she kicked him as hard as she could. Clint stumbled back and she did not even waste a second to see how far he retreated before she rolled underneath the next tube running along the walkway.

It only bought her a moment’s reprieve. Clint, still so eerily silent in a way that made her skin crawl, aimed his bow at her again. This arrow only missed by an half an inch – Natasha could feel the feathered tip brush past her check before it clattered to the floor below.

Shouts from below joined them and the drumming of heavy boots on metal merged with the machinery. Natasha only let her eyes drift down for a second. It seemed like the game-generated enemy soldiers were not as simple-minded as she had hoped.

She didn’t let herself dwell on it at all or she would freeze. Springing back into action again, she grabbed the next metal rail she could reach and swung herself over to the service walkway on the other side. In the process her eyes landed on the Taser bracelet around her wrist and her heart twisted.

It would be helpful for the soldiers. But for Clint? She did not want to use it.

_As a last resort_, she promised herself.

Clint had used her brief distraction and had jumped over to her walkway as well. She only saw him from the corner of her eye and was already spinning around, hands up before she even knew how he was about to attack. She saw the tiny tell in the way his eyes narrowed as he lifted his bow for the next hit. Lunging forward, she made a grab for the string and pulled as hard as she could.

Clint seemed unprepared for that and stumbled forward. With clenched teeth and stinging palms, Nat smacked the bow back towards him, using his momentum against him to crush the heavy frame against his stubborn brain, maybe also hitting his crooked busted nose in the process. She pulled on the bow again and it came out of Clint’s hands.

Within the next dizzy stumble of Clint’s feet she had thrown the bow as far away as she could, and had gotten herself a bit of space to breathe. The soliders’ steps were rattling the stairs now – not long and they would have her surrounded.

Clint shook his head like a dog getting rid of water – he looked so unlike himself. Natasha knew what he should look like and she had never seen Clint so expressionless and so damn quiet. There was always something – a bored yawn, a twinkle in his blue eyes, that annoyed frown, pizza sauce on his cheekbone; he was always noisy in his own way. And he’d never not acknowledged her presence in any way.

The glint of a blade pulled her out of her thoughts and her entire body started to rebel. Her skin was almost crawling with how much she wanted to get away from here. But she could not – not with Clint being like this! Whatever it was that had a hold of him, she had to help him get out of it. Otherwise she would never forgive herself.

“Clint, snap out of it! Please. What’s going on? Talk to me!”

The clanging of boots had suddenly stopped and she heard the ominous click of guns being cocked. That sound brushed icy fingers down her spine, leaving painful goosebumps in its wake, but she did not turn around. She did not dare let Clint out of her sight for a second.

“I got this,” he said, not to her, not even really looking at here. And he sounded almost like himself, but something was missing, was making him sound like a stranger and it made her hackles rise. “You got your mission, I got mine.”

“Go!” he barked at them when they did not move.

Natasha only waited long enough for their footsteps to be drowned out by the machinery before she took a deep breath. Something had to be done and even if it would tear her heart out, she would rather die trying than leave Clint like this. With a silent apology, she ran at Clint again. Before he could react, she crashed against his body, pushing the arm with the knife as far back as she could. The little crunch in his elbow set her stomach roiling, but she swallowed hard and forced the arm further back.

Clint didn’t let go of the knife. Instead his other hand grabbed her hair and pulled. Hard.

Natasha’s upper body was bent backwards to the sound of her scream. Clint stared down at her with those alien eyes and no recognition in them at all. They were at an impasse – none of them willing to let the other go because that would mean defeat for themselves. So Natasha did the only thing she could in a situation like this. She played dirty.

With another silent apology to Clint she sank her teeth in his exposed lower arm. Clint let go of her hair with a yelp and Natasha grabbed the back of his neck, smashing his head against the railing with a shaking arm.

Clint went down like a sack of potatoes and stayed down, Natasha leaning over him, body tense and heaving. Her hand clenched at her sides. After a worried second, he braced himself on his hands and hoisted himself up gingerly. He blinked slowly as if waking up and turned his head towards her.

Natasha gritted her teeth, steeling herself for whatever would come now. All that Clint did in the end was look up at her and say her name.

She knocked him out cold with a silent apology on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea bout coding, so please forgive me any technical errors that may be in the descriptions of Tony's hacking.  
If you want a cool song to go along his hacking, any hacking I imagined was always to Muse's Algorithm. It's really cool :)


	14. Interrogation and Investigation - Hero Mode II

**Chapter 11**

Steve had no idea how much of the ship they had already combed through. Apart from the occasional gunman, they had found nothing; not even dust bunnies or a lonely spider sitting in a corner and weaving her web. He was slowly getting the hang of his shield however, courtesy of said occasional gunmen. Then again, it was not that much different from brandishing a trash can lid in an alley fight. The added bonus now was that his shield had actually been made to do what he used it for – it was not just some unfortunate lid that had been repurposed to save his ass from a severe beating and that bent just as easily as his body would under too much strain. This shield was his new favorite thing even with the dark glances Bucky kept shooting his way whenever they jumped one of the soldiers on their way.

But to Steve surprise even Bucky admitted that it came in pretty handy for knocking these soldiers out. Cramming the unconscious bodies into the next storage closet they could find was the best thing they had come up with to a) keep moving as fast as possible and b) not run the risk of those soldiers waking up again and telling on them. Bucky was carrying quite a collection of comms by now (Steve was glad Bucky had even thought of that! He probably would have been cornered after forgetting to take the comms away).

The machinery was humming – sometimes quieter, sometimes louder, depending on how close they were to the huge machines – but always a constant background noise.

They searched through every storage room they came across. Yet no sign of this stupid scepter. After the third cargo storage room (Steve had stopped counting all the supply closets), Steve had had enough and started prying open some of the heavy-duty boxes. What he found left him a little speechless and carved deep lines into Bucky’s face.

“I still don’t know what they want with all those weapons,” Steve muttered as they were walking down another long corridor, ears straining to hear anything above the background hum and engine bellow around them.

“This SHIELD organization thing is definitely not what it looks like,” Bucky agreed darkly, pointing his gun into the next empty corridor and beckoning to Steve when it was clear.

“Keeping supplies for us and the guards is one thing, but there are too many crates on this ship. You think someone here is secretly working with Loki?”

Bucky snorted. “Those crates were not really hidden. I don’t think that’s much of a secret. But a mole who’s working with the prisoner?” He shrugged. “Probably the reason that guy is not bothered at all by his current cell situation. It would also explain how those other guys found us.”

Bucky nodded at the empty corridor they had just left, indicating the two men they had found sneaking around just like them. They were some of the newcomers from the jet – or at least, they wore the same uniform they had seen on the footage and their gunmen so far.

“Unless that’s the game and those were always supposed to be here … or maybe the game _is_ that someone is a mole. What do I know – I just want to be out of here as soon as possible.”

“Best plan I heard all day.” That was that, but then a bitter expression twisted Bucky’s face as if he had bitten into a lemon. Steve did not think he intended to say the next word, they just seemed to slip out. “We have to get you back to Peggy after all, don’t we?”

Steve stopped in his tracks. He had not caught the bitter venom in Bucky’s words and he blinked. “What? Oh shit. How long have we even been in here? It can’t be more than a day, right? You think she’ll be looking for us?”

Bucky only arched an eyebrow. “Us? Not so sure. You? Definitely. Nothing’ll stop that woman.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just leave it be, Rogers.” Bucky tried to brush past him, but Steve grabbed his arm.

“What is going on? Come on, Buck. You know you can talk to me, right?”

Bucky stared at him for a second, pale eyes ablaze like a lightning storm. Then that moment was gone and Bucky looked down and shrugged out of Steve’s grip. “’M good. Leave it be.”

“Nothing’s good. For Christ’s sake, Bucky.” Steve caught up to him, his legs eating up the distance like it was nothing. In real life, he would have had to almost sprint to catch up with his best friend and maintain that sprint to not fall behind. How many fights had Bucky simply walked away from like this? Well, not anymore. “The circles beneath your eyes are almost permanent. That’s not _nothing_! I tried to give you space but I can’t watch this any longer. I’m worried about you, you big jerk.”

Bucky only stared ahead, but had stopped walking away, resigned to his fate. Steve wouldn’t let the topic go now, he already had that stubborn look of a tiny determined terrier and something in Bucky just … he just was sick of this pretending, okay?

“You’ve been this way since-,” Steve continued, oblivious to the thoughts in Bucky’s head, but then stopped short. He racked his brain. There was the morning after the hockey game, this stupid, stupid game. They had put the awkwardness of the days after behind them, hadn’t they? Their friendship had been back to normal, right? When Bucky really had started to go out all night and almost work himself to death had been when‑

Steve eyes became round as saucers as he breathed one word. “Peggy.”

Bucky visibly flinched next to him like Steve had hit him. Steve’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, seizing up as if an asthma attack was about to choke the air form his lungs.

Steve couldn’t formulate any words; he just kept staring at Bucky with a new agony blazing in his chest he had not even imagined possible. But he should have known … he damn well should have known it would never be that way. And yet he could not make himself regret the feelings his heart had acknowledged for much longer than he had wanted to. The only possible conclusion left his mouth feeling like defeat, heavy as stones and sorrow dragging them from his lips. “You fancy her.”

Bucky took a step closer, his face a mask. Only his lips were alive and curled in violent disgust. “Fancy her? Seriously Steve, if you wouldn’t drag me along to meet her now and then, she would pay no attention to me at all. I might as well be invisible.” He poked an angry finger at Steve’s chest, looking up at him. “And who do you think I am, huh? She’s your girl! I would never-“

“We broke up.” The words left his mouth in a rush. It somehow drew the decision he and Peggy had reached that night into even sharper lines in his mind and left Bucky open-mouthed and boggle-eyed. Steve could still see the tears in Peggy’s eyes and feel her lips on his cheek as she had kissed him goodnight.

“What?” Bucky croaked.

They stared at each other, eyes wide and everything else around them forgotten. The silence stretched around them until it was so taut, waiting for the inevitable crack after stepping on a twig that would snap it. Right now, however, both were too scared to put their full weight on that twig of unspoken things and snap it, scaring the other off with the sudden sound.

“We broke up …,” Steve repeated, voice grave and blue eyes rimmed with red now. He knew it had been the right thing to do yet his throat constricted and a part of him wished that life would just be easy once. “Last weekend when, when we were out dancing. I just could not …” A shake of his head. “It is better like this. It was not fair on her.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Steve? She is amazing, anyone with eyes can see that. What isn’t fair on her?” Bucky demanded, outrage carrying his voice further down the hallway than he intended to. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Instead he pushed at Steve’s shoulder, but that didn’t help either. Steve remained silent, and he screamed in frustration.

That was when they heard it. The footsteps – heavy boots hitting the floor and the sound of guns being loaded bouncing off the wall.

“Shit.”

Steve immediately stepped forward to crouch in front of Bucky, pulling his shield forward in the same motion. He could not see Bucky, but he heard him pulling that rifle free and pointing it at the hallway in front of them. Their backs seemed clear, they had come that way and no one had crossed their path. They should be safe – just needed to face whoever was coming from up ahead.

Three men rounded the corner into their corridor and their guns were immediately trained on Steve and Bucky. Steve felt Bucky tense up, his leg brushing Steve’s back. For a second everything stood still, none of them moving, both groups seizing up each other. Then everything happened in a blur. One of the trio gave a signal and they seamlessly fell into formation, fanning out in the small corridor as far as they possibly could (which was not that much really) and opening fire.

One shot hit the shield and Steve barely felt the impact, another shot went wide, the third one was way too close to Bucky. Steve clenched his fists, fury coursing through him and just as Bucky pulled the trigger of his rifle, hitting the goon on the right in the shoulder, Steve coiled the muscles of this big new body and flung the shield at the goon in the middle with all the might he could muster. The man went down with a shout, the gun firing a useless salvo at the ceiling that did not ricochet and hit them, thank God.

Bucky quickly took care of the last goon still holding a weapon by aiming for his wrist and hitting it spot on. The weapon dropped to the floor with a loud clutter and Steve was already in motion, sprinting forward with three longs strides, picking up the shield and slamming it into the side of the goon’s head. The man dropped like a ragdoll.

The one with the shot in the shoulder went down a second later, a perfect shot from Bucky’s rifle tearing a hole in his black tack gear.

Bucky walked up to Steve, rifle still trained on the men on the floor. But they were all out cold or dead. Steve tried not to think too closely about the last option. Before he could say anything however, they flickered and disappeared.

“_What on earth_…” Bucky recovered first. “Let’s find that stupid scepter. Fast.”

Steve could only nod, passing that new bit of information down the comms. Maybe Tony or Jane had an explanation, maybe Natasha had seen the same thing happen. He hoped one of these two scenarios was true because he did not want to consider that the game had turned even crazier right now.

# #

Clint came to to the sight of Natasha sitting opposite him, every line of her body vibrating with tension. Not that a casual observer would notice that right away; she almost looked bored if you did not see those miniscule tells he had picked up over the years. His head was throbbing and his right arm hurt, but nothing he couldn’t deal with. The closed-off face Natasha was wearing on the other hand was a different story. It made him push through the last of the lingering cobwebs in his brain and try to actually formulate words.

“We’re not in that conference room anymore,” he said, using his hands to spell out the words at the same time. Old habits die hard, especially when they were in such a tense situation.

Natasha’s eyes closed for a second and he could literally see the relief shaking down her spine and making her shoulders sag. A spike of fear pierced his heart. “What happened?”

Instead of answering right away, she got up and offered him her hand to get him on his feet too. He grabbed it without thinking, letting her pull him up. “You remember our argument?”

Clint scrunched up his nose and frowned, trying to remember. But it all seemed oddly like he was watching himself through a fun house mirror – everything was distorted and unclear, shapes and colors, not people. “Kinda? Memory’s a bit odd. Like having a hangover and trying to remember what shit you did last night. Thing is, I can remember the argument but only like it happened to another person, not myself. After that everything goes super weird and I don’t mean funny weird, Tasha.”

She nodded as if he had confirmed something for her. “We don’t really know what happened after. You just never came back. I wanted to come after you in a bit.” She provided him with a quick breakdown of Loki’s interrogation and how that had made them split up. “You seemed not yourself”. Her words were quiet, but Clint leaned his shoulder harder into her side, giving her physical contact to reassure the both of them.

“I wasn’t … I think.” He narrowed his eyes, thinking back on how he just had been pulled to the deck of the ship. He could remember thinking that he should turn around, get back to the others, but it had seemed irrelevant. There had been something else that was much more important. “It was like some out-of-body experience. You do stuff but you don’t really know why and you have to watch yourself do it.”

In horror, he spun around to Tasha, examining her face for any marks, as the memories of just a few moments ago filtered in. “I’m sorry.” Or was it just a few moments ago?

Natasha gently patted his cheek. “Definitely the worst scuffle we had so far, but no hard feelings.”

Clint looked down on the floor, face glum and eyebrows pulled together in dissatisfaction. Natasha punched him in the arm. “Get over yourself. I had to punch you too. So we’re square. You can make it up to me by coming along to the next Russian literature event or you promise to do the cooking when I have to break my record in how fast I can finish this new game I bought in one go.”

Clint groaned, his face pure misery at Natasha’s tiny smile. “I hate you, you little terror, you know that right?”

“Of course,” she answered entirely too cheerful before her green eyes held his, not letting him look away. “It’s okay.” She squeezed his hand, a muscle ticking in her face. “I knew it wasn’t you.”

Clint wanted to say something, to apologize again, wrap his arms around her and hold her just for a moment. He could still feel her shaking next to him; she might put on a brave face but deep down the entire thing had affected her just as much as him. Before he could do any of that however, a huge man came running down towards them.

“Thank god, there you are. I could not reach you and assumed the worst,” his voice boomed down the corridor.

Clint had to put effort into making his muscles relax. Once his brain had caught up with the fact that this six-foot, built-like-a-brick warrior god was actually Jane, his body followed that order with ease.

“Sorry, I had you on mute. Clint here needed all my attention and we needed to move around somewhat. There are still way too many soldiers creeping around this ship – although now there are a few less of them; they might wake up tied up and with a splitting headache if they were normal people.”

“Everything okay?” The concern in Jane’s voice was genuine and though whatever had had her running to them, Clint still appreciated that she took the time to check.

“Peachy.”

Next to him Natasha rolled her eyes. Jane just smiled. “Glad to hear that. I have good news and bad news though.”

“Don’t care about the order,” Natasha said before Clint would demand to hear the good news first. By god, he just wanted it to be that Tony found a way out of this game without them having to actually play it to the end.

“I didn’t run into anyone on my way here so far – but I had Tony watch the corridors to give me a heads-up when someone was coming so I could hide. Aaaaand, more importantly, I finished the detector; that scepter is definitely on the ship. Bad news, those soldiers are on their way to Loki’s cell. They seem quite determined to break him out.”

“And then most likely get the scepter, and turn tail,” Natasha murmured, eyes dark.

Clint could not help but flinch. It was his fault that those soldiers had spread below deck. “Where do you need us?”

Both Jane and Natasha looked at him for a second. There was no other choice, really. They came to the same conclusion in the end. “Head two decks down, the stairs to get there are close by; they should be empty for a few more minutes. Try to stop anyone from getting into the cell block. Nat, you know the way.”

“You gonna grab the scepter?” Natasha asked while she bent down to pick up the arrow and quiver she had taken from Clint after dragging him here and handed them back.

“Yes, it seems to be in one of the hundred storage rooms on deck four. If you see Steve or James, tell them to stop as many of those soldiers as possible or maybe come get the scepter – depending on where you see them.”

“They’re not answering the comms either?” Dread curled in Clint’s stomach, but maybe they had a good reason like Tasha. Jane just shook her head. “Tony may have eyes on them with all the cameras – if he’s not too deep into the hacking. Wait, James? Is someone else stuck in this game with us?”

Natasha only rolled her eyes. “Bucky’s actual name. I never really understood why he insisted on Bucky in the first place.”

In the meantime, Clint reached up to his ear to check if his hearing aid was sitting correctly and … okay, maybe it had become a bit of a nervous gesture over the years. But adjusting that tiny thing in his ear helped soothe his nerves, okay. He only found skin and cartilage beneath his fingers though and pulled a face. It still was strange to have no hearing aid in here.

Without a word, Natasha held out an earpiece to him. He just smiled and put it in; it was not exactly like his aids, but beggars could not be choosers. The fit was strange and unfamiliar and yet comforting at the same time.

Jane nodded at the both of them, a nervous smile on her lips that was more curled downward than up. For the first time, Clint actually noticed the hammer hanging on her belt. He lifted his arrow up in a silent salute, a crooked smile on his lips. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll manage.”


	15. Interrogation and Investigation - Hero Mode III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, well, Steve and Bucky are not really good at talking...

**Chapter 12**

Steve had lost count after the third deck they had run through. Well, not really run; they kept encountering those black-clad soldiers, so running was not really an option. By the time they reached the next deck, Steve was a little out of breath even with his newly found strength.

Bucky dragged the sleeve of his shirt over his forehead to get rid of the sweat coalescing there. And Steve just stared for a moment. He still could not get rid of Bucky’s confusion before the first soldiers had found them. Those pale blue eyes had gone round and wide, his mouth lax with shock and all Steve had wanted to do was pour it all out then and there. Just once, to finally say those things that kept choking him, making his heart ache every time he had to watch Bucky come home with a smile and the shade of some girl’s lipstick on his jaw.

Even the constant fear of all those _what if_’s that kept haunting him had seemed ridiculous in that moment. He had wanted nothing more than to lay that final card on the table, the one thing Bucky did not know.

He kept noticing the glances Bucky threw his way when they were running down the corridor or searching through rooms. They made Steve’s heart pound for no reason at all and he was being torn between spiraling down into more doubt and the suffocating urge to push their friendship further, revealing his feelings bit by bit.

“I can’t believe you broke up with Peggy.” The words were like ice water and Steve’s heart stuttered like it sometimes did right before an asthma attack. His lungs seized up as well, but he kept breathing slow and even, riding the pain instead of fighting it.

Terrified and so sick of toeing the line and not talking to his best friend, Steve’s answer ended up being more snappish than he had intended, “And I can’t believe you care. From what you said earlier, it seems you don’t like her at all.”

He forced himself to keep on walking, to not look back at Bucky who had stopped in his tracks. The pounding of hasty footsteps resounded in their hallway. Steve did not turn around, he kept his eyes trained on the rest of the corridor before him, fingers digging into the soft leather strap of his shield.

“Hey, okay, hold on! Don’t you dare drag me into this decision, Rogers.” Bucky overtook him and stood in front of him now, blocking the way. Blue eyes ablaze and jaw hard as rock. “If that is the reason for you breaking up with her, you should get the hell back to her and apologize.”

Steve had to bite the inside of his cheek to not let that bitter laugh escape that was clawing at his throat. “I asked you if you liked her, Buck. I came to _you_ for advice. If you didn’t think she was okay, why the hell did you encourage me to date her?”

“She’s fucking perfect for you!” Bucky yelled and Steve brows furrowed. There was something else in his voice that nearly broke on the last word. “I don’t have to like her to see that. I just-”

Steve’s own anger retreated and hope peeked its head outside its hiding place. “You what?” His voice dropped to a soft whisper as if Bucky was a skittish animal that might shy away at any moment. He stepped closer, too; he could feel the heat coming off Bucky’s body, the rifle in his hands almost brushing against the red and white and blue of Steve’s stupid uniform.

For a second it, looked like Bucky would actually answer him. He bit his lips, eyes dropping down. But then he shook his head, his bright eyes suddenly dull and hard as flint as he looked up and slightly to the left of Steve’s head.

“I do not fancy her, Rogers. I think you’re an idiot for breaking up with her. I know you, and you are not the giving up type – so whatever she has done to you must have been some stunt–”

“It’s me.” Steve didn’t know he had said those words out loud until Bucky stopped talking, staring at him. Steve swallowed, licking his lips and repeating the words, slower this time. “It’s me. The reason we broke up. W-we broke up because I fancy-“

_You_. He wanted to say it so desperately, but after being pushed down so deep inside him that confession would not come across his lips. Especially not now, when they were both riled up, toeing the line of a fight that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks now.

“-someone else,” he said instead, eyes focusing only on Bucky in the hope that his best friend would get the hint, would finally understand. He could not say it out loud yet, not like this, but if Bucky could just read between the lines, surely he’d understand. Steve was sure that his longing must have been written all over his face; yet all his words achieved was to make Bucky’s face close up completely.

Steve could already see how this would go from here. Bucky would turn around and walk away, not seeing, not _understanding_!

He had never wanted to risk his friendship with Bucky, but Peggy had been right. He needed to talk about it at some point. Not knowing would eat him up in the end, leave him bitter and resentful. And how would _that_ affect their friendship?

He’d rather Bucky know and tell him that those feelings were not mutual than keep wondering forever. It could not be that bad – after all, Bucky knew about his sexuality. Hell, he had been the one who had caught him kissing Marco from the little café around where they lived when he was seventeen.

Steve grabbed his hand before Bucky could actually turn away and his best friend looked at him with fire in his eyes. For a second, Steve thought he would lash out; he was already prepared to hold on tighter. Instead, Bucky did not even try to jerk his arm back. So Steve loosened his grip again, aware that even that might be holding on too tightly – this ridiculous body was just too strong to take the risk of hurting Bucky by accident.

Steve’s heart pounded in his chest and he felt light-headed, Bucky’s arm the only thing keeping him tethered – even if he could only feel the fabric of his shirt and not actual skin, it was something to hold on to. Steve closed his eyes, gathering all the courage he could find.

_How is it so much easier to face Rumlow than do this?_ he wondered briefly. When he opened his eyes again, Bucky was staring at him, some of the blankness gone from his so-familiar face. His free hand was raised as if he wanted to comfort Steve, pull him closer by the neck and rest their foreheads together, just like he used to do when his Ma had died and on those days when everything had simply been _too much_.

Realizing he was being watched, Bucky’s hand froze between them, uncertain if that touch was welcome. Steve wanted so badly for Bucky to just bridge those last few inches, to have the comfort of his best friend right there – but he needed to know. He just had to make those words come out.

The moment Steve opened his lips, pounding steps raced towards them in the corridor. Bucky spun around, grabbing Steve’s shield out of his hand and threw it like an oversized frisbee down the corridor, gun trained at the huge man who managed to duck before getting beheaded by the shield even before Steve had time to blink.

“Holy shit! It’s me!” The man got up on shaky legs, eying the shield that was now embedded in the wall with concern. He tapped it with a finger, making the metal vibrate up and down.

“Fuck! Sorry Jane,” Bucky hollered and dragged Steve out of the paralysis that had come over him. He felt just as shaky as Jane, torn in half and put together imperfectly with edges that chafed against each other with every move.

“I should probably not sneak up on you, huh?” Her laugh was shaky at best as she pulled out the shield and walked up to them to hand it back to Steve.

Steve took it with a silent nod. He barely felt the leather strap as he fastened the shield to his arm again. His heart was still pounding, the words now stuck in his throat, breaking against his teeth. It was too late now, the moment had been blasted to smithereens.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus on Jane. It must be bad if she came running to them like that. “Sorry, we’ve been fighting these guys for what feels like hours now. What brings you here?”

A big smile spread across Jane’s face and she showed them a small device in her hand. “It’s finished. I know where the scepter is.”

“You’re a genius!”

“It’s not far from he-“

“What the f–“

The floor beneath their feet gave a rumble and a second later a blast wave hit them, sending their ear pieces into shrieking static. Steve ripped his out first, hissing and watching in a daze as Jane and Bucky followed suit. He shook his head to get rid of the damn sirens shrieking in his ears, but it was not much use. “Guess they’re useless now.”

“What the hell was that?” Bucky snarled a bit off key as he stomped on the comms with his foot for good measure.

“Best guess? Some sort of sonic blast,” Jane answered with a frown in the vague direction the blast had come from.

“Great,” Bucky huffed, “Just fucking great. I really hate this game!”

“Is your device still working?” Steve asked. He really, really hoped it was. Otherwise they would be more than screwed. Well, just as much as they had been five seconds ago.

Jane tapped the screen of the small gray thing in her hand and it lit up in old-tech green. “Yep, still up and running. Better get a move on, it’s not too far from here.”

Even though they could almost physically feel the clock ticking, they did not run full out to the location Jane’s device was showing. None of them wanted to lose a life, so they took corners carefully, checking if some more soldiers were lying in wait.

They managed to get to the next deck before their luck ran out. They had to cross a huge space that seemed like the helicarrier hangar. Numerous crates and vehicles were stashed here and there and each one of them obstructed their view, but also gave them some sort of cover.

Steve pressed his body back to the tower of crates he had just looked around when a salvo of gunshots greeted him. “Fuck!”

“Guess we found more of them.” Bucky hoisted his gun higher and Jane carefully took hold of her hammer.

“You know how to use that thing?”

“Can’t be more difficult than swinging a frying pan to hit things with, right?” Steve had no idea where that had come from and honestly, he was a bit terrified to find out. Bucky just shrugged his shoulders. “Good enough.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Short of _'Kock them out and then move on' _ not really much of a plan here,” Steve whispered as the next salvo sent splinters of wood flying around their heads and made them duck down instinctively.

Steve met both of their eyes and waited for the salvo to die down. “Ready?”

He saw Bucky pressing his lips down to bite back his comment. There was no need for his best friend to actually put into words how much he hated that 'plan'. “I’m all ears for anything else.”

Bucky grumbled and glowered. Jane just rotated her wrist with the hammer to get a feel for its weight. “On my count. One – two – three!”

Steve took a deep breath and charged forward with his shield raised just as the ringing silence after gunshots descended upon the hanger. Bucky and Jane followed suit, keeping an eye out for Steve’s back and covering his left and right side to prevent any sneak attacks.

The first soldiers went down with a few precise shots from one of the guns Bucky had picked up. His rifle would be not much use here. Jane had tucked the homing device safely away and doled out unconsciousness with her hammer, looking determined to get through this even though she would most likely rather be anywhere else than here.

Other soldiers kept coming. Steve kept swinging his shield, knocking soldiers of their feet and leaving them with a heavy concussion. The flow of soldiers did not die down. If anything, there were more and more of them, circling them, driving them back and cutting them off from the hallway they had to take.

“Fuck.” Shot, duck. “I think there is some sort of-“ Steel hitting flesh. Thump. “-of nest down here.”

Steve was breathing hard, but he did not let his shield arm down. Adrenaline surged through his veins, his heart hammering in his ears, the rush of a fight sizzling in his blood – and all that without his lungs seizing up or his body giving out on him. He may have been a bit drunk on that feeling.

He struck out again, hitting the next solider who tried to take a shot and then flung the shield out in a perfect arc to hit the one who had clambered up a file of crates to take them by surprise.

Bucky grunted behind him, muttering something Steve could not make out. He was just about to shout at Steve for flinging away his only weapon when the shield bounced off the sniper and ricocheted back to Steve.

“Show off.”

That one Steve got loud and clear and he could not help grinning.

“Look out!” They both spun around at Jane’s cry, but it was too late. Two soldiers had used the moment of distraction and were about to attack in a tag-team. In an all-out last resort attack, Jane flung the hammer at them with an almost comical expression of fear and desperate hope.

She was still surprised by how easy it was to wield something that logic told her should be as heavy as a boulder and the hammer may have flown out of her hand with more gusto than she had actually intended to throw it with. It knocked the soldiers out quickly and she just blinked as the hammer seemed to hover in midair and then returned to her still outstretched hand, handle first.

“Neat … trick,” Bucky managed, half grinning, half dazed with awe. He had abandoned questioning the logic of what they were able to do here about three hallways ago.

Jane just shrugged, a slight blush visible on her skin. Their enemies seemed to be just as dumb-struck for a second and it bought them a second of relief, which they used to hide behind the next stack of crates and try to regroup.

“That’s not working, guys.”

“They can’t keep us here forever.”

“But long enough to get to Loki and the scepter,” Steve countered, staring grimly at the hallway they needed to get to. Form their current position, he could barely see it, and the corner he could see was half obstructed by soldiers moving in front of it.

“We split up,” Bucky suggested after a second. Discomfort was written all over his face, but it was probably the best solution they had. “They can’t get to all of us at once. Just one of us needs to slip through.”

The homing device at Jane’s hip started to beep.

“Shit.” Jane pulled it from her belt and looked at the green screen and the dot that had set idle since she had left the command central. Now it was slowly moving. “They have the scepter.”

“_Fuck_!” Bucky punched his fist in the planks of the crate next to him.

“Probably means they also have Loki,” Jane muttered, gripping the handle harder in her other hand, currents of blue electricity arching along the carvings on the hammers head.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Bucky groaned.

“Afraid not. He’s the only one who knows where it is.”

“We cut them off then,” Steve said. “There’s not much else we can do. We get out of here and cut him off before he can disappear with the scepter.”

“Jane, you make a run for it, we cover you.” He noticed the leaping lightning coiling around the hammer. “You … erm, are aware of that.”

“What?” Jane looked down. “Whoa, shit!“ Her fingers spasmed and the hammer slipped in her grip. The leaps became more erratic and the air smelled of ozone.

“So this is a thing …,” Jane muttered as she kept looking at the hammer as if it were a snake about to jump in her face and bite her. “How do I stop it?”

“Order it?” “Turn it on and off again?”

“Not helping,” Jane complained, but the electricity did die down a little.

A gunshot scratched the metal floor scant inches from their feet and they hurriedly retreated. Bucky leaned around the corner and returned a salvo of shots in the soldiers’ direction.

“Back to the point. Jane, you have the homing beacon, you make a run for it,” Bucky said when he was back with them and the cursing of the soldiers had died down.

She looked a bit pale, but nodded. “You’re right behind me, right?”

“Sure are. And if any of those guys get too close, just fizz them a little with your new skill.”

“They are awfully quiet,” Bucky muttered and leaned around the corner again, just enough to push his nose past the wooden crate and catch a glimpse of the open hanger area. “Holy shit.”

“I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. I _really_ don’t want to know,” Jane chanted, eyes screwed shut.

Steve leaned around the corner and let out a low whistle. “Of course they have a giant robot.”

Jane’s eyes snapped open and she looked around the corner with them. “Shall I-?” She waggled her hammer and when both Bucky and Steve just shrugged, she threw it with all her might.

The machine seemed more or less unimpressed, but electricity crackled in the air and its left arm had a hammer head sized dent in it. They all knew what that meant.

“So much for making a run. Three versus a robot, I faced worse.”

“You did not, Rogers, and you know it.”

“_Tony_!” Jane cried. “We need Tony.” When Bucky and Steve just looked at her funny, she hurried on. The robot was approaching with ground-shaking steps, slow but inevitable due to its size. They maybe had a few more moments before that one was upon them and they needed to engage it. “He has some sort of robot suit. The bracelet he got from Jarvis, it’s a suit of armor. Don’t ask me anything more about this, it only gets weirder.”

As if on silently agreement, both Jane and Bucky looked at Steve.

“You’re the fastest,” Bucky pointed out grudgingly.

Steve looked at them, their faces severe and Bucky’s somewhat torn. “You’re really good here?”

“We’ll be fine, punk. Jane can short-circuit that robot if we need to.” – Jane nodded enthusiastically – “Just hurry.”

Taking a deep breath, Steve nodded.

“On my count.” Bucky leaned around the corner, training his gun on god knew what. “Jane, keep that hammer ready.”

Steve and Jane both fell in line next to Bucky, muscles coiled and ready to spring into action. Steve had a moment to feel sorry that everything was apparently going to hell in a helicarrier and he had missed another opportunity to talk to Bucky. But if there ever was a not-right-now moment, then this was it. So he shoved it back down and-

A well-positioned shot shattered the silence into pieces, but it was the strangled sound of pain that sent Steve’s heart into overdrive. As he looked over, Jane was already flickering next to them, blood dripping down to the floor next to her in a puddle that seemed way too small to warrant losing a life.

“Fuck.”

“What now?”

“You still make a run for it, Rogers. I’ll make sure you get through.”

“Buck-“ Before he could even untangle to words on his tongue, rumbling thunder made them all look up. Steve stared wide-eyed and with a gaping mouth as Jane landed with booming thunder and crackling lightning arcing from her feet into the air and around her body, eyes glowing white-hot. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve thought that _this_ was what a God of Thunder looked like – and he desperately needed to paint it. Jane would love it.

Even the soldiers stared in terror at Jane and did not make a move on her. Steve had no idea who would recover first, but Jane stared at soldiers around her, just as surprised (maybe even more so), then seemed to remember her hammer and started swinging it.

“Run!”

For a second Steve stared at his best friend, not comprehending a thing. “Run, damn you!”

Gathering his wits and trusting Bucky with every fiber of his body, virtual or not, Steve dashed forward, around the next corner of crates, took a left and vanished into the opposite direction of where they had wanted to go.

He ran like never before, his legs pumping, his lungs burning, but still his body was moving faster and faster. There was no one who stopped him on his way, neither soldiers nor any sight of Loki.

The array of tech engineers on the helicarrier bridge did not even look up when he had to grab onto the doorjamb to avoid slipping on the slick metal floor and crashing over the railing and into the first row of their computers.

“They got Loki,” Steve coughed as he came to a halt in the room off to the side. “Bucky and Jane are trying to cut them off, but-”

“Saw that one.” Tony pointed to one of the screens. “Jane seems to be having some fun; the only thing missing now is a good soundtrack in the back ground. I thought Led Zeppelin with -“

An eruption rocked the entire ship and alarms started blaring and people started shouting. Everything was drowned in red emergency light.

“What is going on _now_?” Tony’s outrage morphed into shock when he pulled up the helicarrier’s hologram schematics. One of the four engines keeping them aloft was displayed in an alarming shade of red and blinking rapidly. Steve cut to the camera footage and only got smoke.

“Fuck, they blew it up!”

Steve’s eyes skimmed over the hologram. “Comms are still down and we are the closest.”

“Fuck!” Tony dragged a hand through his hair.

“You can fly in that robot suit?” Steve asked, already moving to the door, heart pounding in this chest. They would fix this – they would _not_ crash with this ship and sink down into the ocean.

“Yeah, maybe. Probably.”

“Good, then better suit up, we have a ship to keep in the air.”


	16. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Peggy Carter.

**INTERLUDE**

Steve had to admit that this time he might have taken on too much. Nevertheless, he would be damned if he stepped down now. The kid this guy had been bullying had picked up his books and was already around the corner, far enough away that the bully would probably not run after him. Steve did not want to risk it though; the teenager had been limping out of the alley with blood already on one of his books.

Cold fury constricted his chest at that memory. No, he would keep the attention on himself for as long as he could. By now the bullies had probably forgotten about their earlier victim.

“I could do this all day,” he rasped, his glasses already gone and the guy in front of him nothing more than a blur that morphed into a bulky twenty-something-year-old with a hooked nose and mean smile the closer he got to Steve.

“Yeah, me too,” the bully grinned with a victorious smile, drawing his fist back and burying it in Steve’s stomach. “But I doubt you do.”

Steve was hunched over, one hand on the trash cans next to him to keep him up, trying to catch his breath. Sheer will and stubborn determination kept him standing for now, even if he needed some help from the brick wall behind him. When he heard a second set of steps, he tightened his hold on the lid. His muscles were tense, his body ready to take the next hit and deflect it with the lid. To his surprise, the owner of the second pair of footsteps turned on the bully, shoving him to the entry of the alley without so much as uttering a word.

He strained to see, but his eyes were failing him without his glasses. He could only make out a slender figure with dark hair.

“If I see your face again, I’ll bust your balls. You do not want to test me, believe me. So you’d better get going.”

Steve’s eyebrows skyrocketed_. A woman?_

A loaded silence descended over the little alley. Steve could only assume that the woman and the bully were locked in a stare off. He gripped the lid harder, prepared to jump in if this bully threw another punch. He might not be able to see more than shapes, but that was only a problem when people were too far away.

Gravel crunched beneath shoes and someone was blocking out the light falling in from the allay entry point. Steve did not let his guard down yet, but he could finally see more than blurred outlines. A slender hand was extended to him to pull him properly to his feet. “You all right there?”

“Yeah, just a few scratches.” He let go of the lid and took the hand.

“Thanks,” he said, narrowing his eyes to slits to force the blurry outlines of the woman who just spared him a severe beating into focus. “You haven’t seen my glasses, have you?”

The woman was looking around and it only took her a few seconds before she spotted his glasses.

“Thanks.” Steve blinked a few times when he finally had the glasses back up on his nose. A fine crack ran through one of the lenses, but it did not affect his eyesight in the end. He could deal with a little wonky vision until he got home to get his other pair.

“At least it’s one of the cheap ones,” he sighed to himself.

“Beg your pardon?” The woman blinked, looking at him with dark brown eyes and the slightest frown creasing her brows. “Does this happen often then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Steve was so used to Bucky dragging him out of back alleys that it almost felt natural for Steve to be pulled up from the dirty concrete floor. Having to explain that to a stranger though seemed strange. Steve knew he was blushing, but faced with a choice of jumping in again or just walking by that alley? He would do it again without a second thought because it was the right thing to do.

“Not thaaat often,” he finally said a bit flustered, looking at his feet and the dirty asphalt.

The way she looked at him could hold up with Bucky’s fiercest scowls and Steve found himself smiling just a little. Her lips were already parted around the soundless beginning of a comment when she shook her head the tiniest fraction and pursed her lips.

“Okay, how about I buy you a coffee while you get yourself cleaned up and I can tell you about a self-defense class I’m running that might help?”

His t-shirt was dirty and torn, his hair ruffled and blood was probably dripping from his lips. He could already feel one of his cheeks starting to swell and throb with pain. But Steve was curious now. Not many would step into an alley fight, never mind offering him help afterwards. “Thanks. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Peggy.”

# #

“Do you have plans for a hot date after classes?” Bucky asked from behind the fridge door.

Steve finished wrapping up his sandwich and frowned at the opened door. Seemingly aware of Steve’s confusion without ever having to see him, Bucky explained. “You’re wearing your lenses, Steve. Otherwise you would have already run into the kitchen counter.”

_Like you did last week when you left your glasses in the living room the night before,_ Bucky’s pointed look said when he closed the fridge door again. His hands were full of containers and cheese and ham that would go on the bread already prepared on the counter.

“I see. But no, no hot date,” Steve said putting his lunch in his bag. When he straightened up again and saw Bucky’s face, a laugh burst out of him. His best friend looked like he was trying to swallow a lizard and not look disgusted doing so. “Oh come on, Buck. Don’t look like I just ruined all your plans to get me hitched.”

Bucky’s only answer was a muttered '_whatever_' and he stoically kept his focus on his lunch preparations for the next few minutes. Although judging from the frown he was wearing, Steve had to assume that lunch had done something terrible to his best friend.

When Bucky was finished his eyes snapped up to Steve again. Pale blue bore into him, trying to ferret out the truth. Steve was only wearing his lenses on the rare occasions they went out (and not always then) or when he planned something really stupid.

His guard suddenly up, Bucky stepped around the kitchen counter and walked into Steve’s personal space. “You’re not trying parkour again, are you? You remember the last time you attempted to do that?”

Steve only rolled his eyes. His heart was suddenly beating faster than before and although Bucky had done this a thousand times, Steve was wondering if it might take a different course this time.

It only lasted for a second. Steve chased away these thoughts. It was clear that Bucky saw him as he always did. So Steve would do the same; not that he even knew what it was that made him so jittery about them being close now. It had been almost two weeks ago and nothing had changed, they still bickered and shoved each other around, falling asleep on the couch with the other one holding them up. “You’ll keep bringing that up until we’re a hundred, won’t you?”

The frown was replaced with a cocky grin that had caused them trouble more times than Steve could count. It was one of his favorite Bucky smiles. “Definitely, but it won’t do much good with your stubborn brick of a head.”

# #

When Steve came home that day with a slight limp, Bucky allowed him to evade his questions. After it happened again a second time in that same week and Steve came home with a bruise on his lower arm, Bucky had had enough.

His only consolation was that he could be sure that it was not some back alley fights. Steve would have told him about it or he would have heard from someone. Things like these hardly stayed quiet in their neighborhood.

“You finally telling me where you’re off to twice a week?” Bucky greeted Steve, voice carefully neutral when all the wanted to do was shake the answer out of Steve.

There was only so much lenience he had when he knew Steve was lying to him. Because studying was sure as hell not the reason he came home later than usual and had a fucking limp. That boy and his self-preservation were worse than any lemmings.

“Hi to you too, Buck.”

“I’m serious, Steve. What’s going on?” Bucky watched Steve collapse on the couch and massage his thigh as if his muscles were tender. Steve’s blue eyes were annoyed as he tried to out-stubborn Bucky on this topic.

_Not happening, pal_, Bucky thought and crossed his arms. He could be just as determined and pigheaded as Steve – especially if he suspected that someone was hurting Steve. He would get to the bottom of this and not even Steve 'goddamn too stubborn for you' Rogers would stop him.

“Fine,” Steve finally sighed and looked away, a line between his brows indicating that he was not in fact fine with it. “You remember when I got that split lip about three weeks ago?”

“Yeah,” was Bucky’s gruff answer. He was still angry with Steve for running off and then getting himself beaten up.

“Well, there was this girl and she stepped in. Chased that guy away and I’m talking glaring him into the ground and threatening to cut his balls off.”

Bucky kept staring at Steve, a quiet chuckle escaping him. That was a girl he could understand. But that still did not explain Steve’s limps and bruises.

“Anyway, turns out she’s actually from our uni and has this self-defense class. So after saving my ass she offered me to come to them.”

“Hold on! You want to tell me this girl saves your ass and you finally get it in your thick head that stepping in and winging it might not be the best plan of attack?” Bucky asked a bit incredulously.

He had taught Steve as much as he could from some of his boxing lessons, but self-defense sounded reasonable; especially with Steve’s slighter built and his tendency to get into any back alley fight that didn’t end fast enough. Going into the offensive was not the best solution for someone like Steve in a fight most of the time. But to really know how to use everything he was to his advantage? It would not stop Steve from getting into fights, but maybe he would get out of them with fewer bruises and black eyes. It would certainly ease some of the worry that had a permanent resting place in the pit of Bucky’s stomach.

His fingers drummed the cover of his book and he only stopped when Steve looked pointedly at them. He had not even noticed he was doing it.

“She seems really nice, Buck.”

That made Bucky sit up a bit straighter. He looked at Steve sideways, but his best friend did not notice – he was too busy staring into nothing, a slight smile curving his lips. Because of this girl?

_Oh fuck. _And that right there made Bucky even more determined to get a closer look at this Mystery Girl. Because this smile, it spelled out trouble. Big time.


	17. Engine Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With one engine donw, Tony and Steve have to get it back into working order to prevent their hellicarrier from crashing. But not everything goes according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one the shortest chapter block (bascially just one chapter), but the Interlude is longer this time.

**Chapter 13**

People were shouting as they left the bridge with a few crisp commands from Tony to their crew. Steve dearly hoped that they would actually do as told. Crash-landing in the ocean was not ideal, but it was the best chance they got. Especially when the alternative was taking down half of a city with their crash, even if it was only a city in a videogame.

The din of shouts and commands being thrown back and forth across the control room was replaced with the madness of the helicarrier. Sirens were blaring, steam was hissing out of the walls and into the hallway, wrapping around running men and women in military overalls.

Steve tried to side-step the people coming their way or jumping into the corridor from adjacent hallways at unexpected turns. After only a few meters of running he felt like a drunken ballerina who had forgotten her steps and was a good hundred pounds heavier.

“C’mon, Rogers. Keep up.”

Tony was running ahead of him, the gold and red metal plates of his suite enclosing his body almost completely now. How he did not run into other people while his gaze was firmly fixed on the small device in his hands was a question Steve pushed aside for another time. Muttering apologies to the people his shoulders hit, he made his strides longer, picking up speed and soon he was jogging alongside Tony.

“It’s engine three – we should get to it in about five if we keep running down that way.” He pointed down their corridor. No more people were running their way, but the red alarm light was all over the walls and floor. It pulsed in tune with the alarm still ringing in Steve’s ears.

“Preliminary diagnostics says it’s mostly intact. I need a closer look to know how to fix it. But I take 'mostly' intact any day if that means we’re not gonna drop in the ocean.”

Steve just nodded along. “Just point me at what to do.”

“Righty-o, Cap. That’s my turn, by the way.”

“Tony!”

“You just keep running down that way until you see the engine.” – Tony waved a hand as Steve almost toppled over trying to stop his feet to run back to Tony – “Shouldn’t be hard to miss with the smoke and destruction and all that. I’m gonna go get all up and personal. Blueprints and Jarvis say I should be able to fly right up to the engine itself. And take that – I only had time to fix this one pair, but I’ll need to talk to you when I’m out there”

Steve caught the ear pieces just by sheer dumb luck. “Fly up to … Fine, okay. Go. I’ll meet you there.”

Steve put on a burst of speed and ran down the corridor. The smell of brine and smoke and oil hit him before he could actually see the extent of the damage those soldiers had left in their wake. It only took five more huge strides before he had to skid to a halt or he would fall right off the helicarrier.

“Tony, I think they took out a bit more than the engine.”

A flash of red and gold zoomed past him. “I can see that.”

Tony stopped right in front of the torn frame of Engine Three and all Steve could do was stare. He knew he should get a grip, but still. Tony was actually flying in a robot suit! All Steve could think about was that even though this was a game, this felt fucking real and that Bucky’s Sci-Fi heart would most likely go into overload.

“The engine system is online and the rotor has just been cut off from the system. My scans show that there is just a huge chunk of metal stuck between the rotor blades and that keeps it from moving.” A moment passed in silence, the wind ripping at Steve, but finding no purchase save some of his hair.

“Tony!”

“Yes, yes, on it. There should be a control panel or something close by. You see anything?”

Steve let his eyes wander and found something that might harbor some kind of electronics on the other side of the rift in their ship.

“On it.” Taking a deep breath, Steve did not even stop to think before he jumped across, feet nimbly landing on more metal that did not give out right under him. Heart hammering with adrenaline and a tiny bit of self-preservation, he kneeled down and pried the panel open.

With the press of his hand, the slide-in shelf was released.

“What does it look like in there?”

“Erm …” Steve had no idea where to look first or even where the beginning of this thing was or where it ended. It seemed like a mad maze of cables and chips – blue circuits running rampant in their own dizzying language. “It seems to run on some sort of electricity. I think you’d need some PhD to actually know what’s going on in there.”

He could hear the tinny huff of Tony in his ears. “Not too far off, Cap. Ha!”

Steve turned around at the sound of metal being torn apart and was greeted with the sight of an actual laser beam coming from somewhere inside Tony’s suit cutting one of the debris pieces on the outside apart.

“Holy fuck …”

“Steve, don’t go all awestruck on me. I know it’s awesome, but I need you all here with me, you hear that?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “The lights are still blinking, right? Good. There should be a red lever around somewhere – it enables the mag-lev to stabilize again -“

“English, Tony! I’m not an engineer.”

“Pull the red lever down once I get the engine going again to keep the blades from making sushi out of me, okay?”

“Pull red lever when you say so, got it.” Steve looked around and found said lever about two stories up and right at the edge of the jagged edge of the helicarrier. _Of course it is,_ Steve sighed, calculated the distance and just prayed that his character could take that jump.

He may have closed his eyes, but he landed on the metal walkway with a loud thud of his boots and in no actual danger of falling backwards into the empty air. Bucky would probably kill him if he ever found out that he had just pulled that stunt. For a second, he just breathed in and out, head hanging low and almost touching the cold metal of that piece of wall that was still intact.

Heart calmer now, Steve wrapped a hand around the lever and pulled experimentally. It went down easily and Steve pulled it back up before he could active the thing by accident. At least now he knew that he could actually move it.

“I’m in position, Tony. Whene- Shit.” Steve threw himself to the side, making himself as small a target as possible for the bullets that suddenly zoomed by. A quick look to his left confirmed that the soldiers had found him.

Steve just saw one of them pulling his arm back and letting it snap forward to throw something small and round. “Fuck.”

He jumped before he even knew what he was doing. Catching the tiny thing in his hands and throwing it as far away from Tony and the engine as he could – all the baseball in Brooklyn backyards finally seemed to pay off. The shockwave of the blast as the grenade went off rippled through the air a scant few seconds later and pushed Steve further onto the opposite platform. He staggered under the pressure wave, but kept his footing. He had two soldiers to deal with.

Those soldiers were advancing on him, still shooting. Steve kept out of their line of fire as best he could as he inched forward one agonizing step at a time. He just needed to get a liiiittle bit closer.

The next round of fire rattled the inside of his skull, but he snatched the gun of one of the soldiers and pulled. He threw his whole body into the motion and the man stumbled forward and over the edge of the ship.

Steve had no time to watch as the man tumbled down further and further. Wind was ripping at his body, metal groaning in the background, smoke clogging his nose. He lifted the gun and fired; the ricochet knocked the rifle hard enough into his shoulder that he would carry the mark in black and blue with him the next few days.

Even though this was only a game, he did not actually try to shoot the soldier. He just needed to keep him away long enough so he could pull the lever when Tony was finished.

A quick glance over his shoulder did not show much. The metal frame of the engine was in the way, he couldn’t actually see what was going on inside. Yet Steve could feel the slow hum of rotor blades spinning. The vibration shook the end of the rickety walkway he was standing on and travelled up his boots, settling inside his bones.

Pins and needles assaulted his palms in the wake of firing the gun. Steve flexed his fingers to get rid of the sensation, but kept the gun trained on the doorframe the second soldier was hiding behind.

Slowly, Steve inched back to the lever, checking quickly that it was still functional. That second cost him. Accompanied by the sound of gunfire, a third soldier appeared from a lower deck, aiming up at Steve.

Soldier Two used the opportunity his comrade provided and launched himself at Steve with a scream.

Steve had just enough time to send his own round of fire back at Soldier Three before the second soldier crashed into him. His gun flew up in a painful arc that wrenched at his shoulder socket and Steve had to stumble back to deal with a dislocated arm. The solider pushed his advantage, ripping the rifle out of Steve’s hands and throwing it into the void.

Fists beat down on Steve and he yielded another step back; his heel was already out of walkway, empty air pulling at him with a vengeance. For now, however, he still had gravity and most of his body actually on the walkway on his side.

The soldier didn’t seem to care that they were at the end of the metal service walkway; he kept on coming, throwing punch after punch. Steve waited for his time, taking the hits as they fell, body rooted in place, until–

With a swift motion, he grabbed the soldier’s arm and twisted. The soldier fell over the edge and Steve scrambled a few feet further down the walkway. He had no intention of following.

The hum of the engine was almost constant now, no grinding or screeching to be heard. Steve dragged himself to shaky feet when the entire ship listed to one side. He could hear Tony’s curse inside his ear as he stumbled closer to the edge, unable to gain his balance.

“They shut down the entire ship!” Tony’s voice was the last thing Steve heard as he went over the edge. He tried to reach out for anything, but his fingers only closed around air.

Time seemed to stand still and fly by in a break-neck speed at the same time. Blue rushed past him, ocean and sky switching places over and over again until he had forgotten which was which. Strange as it was, it was peaceful; he could not even hear himself scream.

He braced for some sort of impact that never came. Instead his fall seemed to be endless, it went on and on and on.

When he looked down and saw the helicarrier beneath him things clicked in Steve’s head. Desperate, he tried to get closer, while at the same time trying to not actually become a puddle of no-longer Steve-shaped human being on the helicarrier deck.

When the smoking hole at Engine Three’s side came into view, Steve stretched as far has his arms would reach. There had to be something, anything, he could hold on to-

His fall was halted violently, his entire body weight pulling at his left arm as he dangled over the edge, fist tightly closed around some cable.

“Cap, pull the lever.”

Steve struggled against gravity and the wind currents trying to drag him down again. “I need a minute over here,” he yelled breathlessly.

“Lever. Now!” Tony’s voice held a tinge of panic or maybe it was just Steve’s mind projecting things. His arm muscles were screaming in agony and his entire body seemed to shake as he managed to bring his other arm up, wrap his fingers around that cable and pull.

A horrible metallic clonk sounded from the engine – like a piece of metal stuck in a blender. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out that noise and _not_ think about what had caused it.

He pulled himself up, one hand over the other, over the other until he could grip the metal of the walkway and stand up on his own two feet. From up overhead he heard the signature _whoosh_ that had brought them all here.

Although his body was still shaking and he was too close to the edge he did not move. He knew what that metallic noise had been just as much as he knew that now Tony would be the one falling in this short infinity before the game started his character’s second life.

It did not take long, maybe four heartbeats, before Steve could hear the tell-tale hum and churn of whatever kept Tony’s suit in the air. Shoving down all other thoughts, Steve grabbed hold of the metal walkway once more – even through his gloves he felt the thin lines of metal bite into his palm, pressing against bone and joints.

A blur of gold and red tumbled down, occasionally being pushed to one side or the other when the blasters in the suit’s feet or hands started working again.

“Tony!” He didn’t know if he could catch him or how far Tony would fall down from his current spot, but still he reached out his hand.

Tony looked at him or at least he suit’s face plate did and one more or less well-aimed blast at the empty air behind him, catapulted Tony within Steve’s reach. He grabbed the other man, clamping his hand around the metal wrist as hard as he could, and hauled him onto the walkway.

The suit crashed into the wall with a loud clatter that would have broken bones in a human. Steve crawled a few feet onto the walkway and sank down on his ass, back leaning against the metal wall. His breathing was loud in his ears and he could still hear his own blood rushing by like a mighty river.

Hisses and puffs sounded from his right side. Tony’s suite opened its face plate and revealed a stark white face and angry brown eyes. “You had one job, Rogers! _One_.”

“I was busy trying not to fall of this fucking ship.” Steve knew that snapping at Tony now was not really fair, but he had never been that good with leashing his temper in situations like this.

Tony glared at him for good measure. “You owe me – big time, big guy!”

Steve closes his eyes and counted to three. “Think we’re even. I fell off the stupid ship. You’re not the only one who lost one of their lives, Tony.” He ripped off his glove and tugged at his resisting sleeve to bare a few inches of his lower arm. When he turned his wrist up there were only two black bars where they should have been three.

Tony looked at him, eyes narrowed to slits and mouth drawn in a tight line. “I need a fucking drink!”

Taking that as a hint that the topic was done with, Steve closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Adrenaline was still making his heart race and the last aftershocks of action coursed through his arteries and made him twitch.

“Why did the ship suddenly fall to one side?” Steve asked in a quiet voice, eyes still closed.

“Jarvis said the soldiers cut the main power supply of this thing.” A hollow _clink-clink_ followed and it took Steve a moment to realize Tony had most likely patted the floor with his metal hand.

“Jarvis?”

“Yeah, somehow he’s an AI in this robot suit. Pretty cool if you ask me – technologically speaking that’s so far from our current standard you can’t even imagine. I mean, we may think about it, but no one actually could pull it off at this level of sophistication. He’s like a real person, you would not know the difference. Anyway, we lost power to all engines, hence this huge chunk of flying metal falling down like a rock. Why are we not a ship wreck in the ocean you ask? Good question, someone restored the energy supply from the bridge and we saved Engine Three. So hurray us!”

“You think Bucky … and the others are safe?”

“Haven’t seen anyone else fall from the sky. Uff. Come on, Cap.” Steve opened an eye to find Tony standing at his side, hand outstretched. “Let’s check on our Merry Men.”

Steve let himself be dragged to his feet again and started following Tony. They both looked over their shoulders at the hole in the helicarrier at the sound of a plane launching itself from the carrier’s upper deck.


	18. Interlude

**INTERLUDE**

Steve was helping to clear away the mats as always. This time, he also had an agenda as to why.

He just needed a few more minutes of not over-thinking things, of not feeling like his friendship with Bucky, usually so set in stone, had somehow shifted. His thoughts never really stopped though, even here. But they left him with some more space to breathe outside of their apartment where everything was so steeped in their shared past it hurt sometimes.

Peggy’s voice made him realized that he had been standing in their tiny gym, staring into nothing for a while now. “You all right Steve?”

“Hm?” He blinked slowly, focusing outward again and stepping away from the tangle of thoughts that snared him in again and again. “Yeah, fine.”

Peggy looked at him critically, her dark eyes taking in every detail. She was definitely not convinced. And did that not remind him of Bucky? Just like him, she _knew_ him in a way only so few people did – only so few people tried to.

“Want to try that again, Steven?” Her eyebrow was arched in a way that Steve had tried to draw so many times and had never been able to get just right. It was so, so frustrating, but at the moment that single eyebrow simply unsettled him. Because he knew that look quite well, knew that Peggy would not let him off without a real answer.

“It’s fine,” he tried to wave it off again. It only resulted in him sounding even less convincing. But there was no sense in talking about it, really. He would only get tangled up in the mess even more. Besides, he did not want to burden Peggy with it – it was probably nothing at all in the end.

“It’s not fine, Steve.” Her voice echoed in the small gym, but softened when she continued. “You’re beating yourself up over something. You know you can talk to me, right?”

A deep sigh dropped from Steve’s lips and he could not stop his hand from raking through his hair. He sat down heavily (more like letting all of his one hundred and twenty pounds plop down) on one of the benches along the wall before he got up again and started pacing. Peggy followed him silently to the bench, waiting for him to talk if he wanted to.

“It’s, it’s Bucky. I know he means well, but lately …” Steve shrugged his shoulders uselessly. He himself did not even know why it was that Bucky’s gentle suggestions set his teeth on edge so much now.

“I know he means well,” he made himself continue in the end, “but he keeps suggesting people I might want to go on a date with and I –“ Steve flailed his hands around, smile awkward and sad, sitting down once more.

With another heavy sigh he leaned forward to brace his arms on his knees. Looking at the floor was easier than looking at Peggy at the moment and it made it easier to put into words what he had so far only ever said to Bucky in a beseeching complaint to finally leave it be a few days ago. “Every now and then I think that Bucky is preparing to leave. Like … like he seems to think I can’t manage on my own so he has to find someone to look after me before he goes away.” His voice wobbled at the end, but he forced the words out. It was even scarier than only hearing this suspicion in his head.

“Steve …”

“I know, I know. It’s nonsense!” Steve burst out, harsher than intended, and rubbed a hand over his burning face. “Sorry, Peg.” A deep breath in.

“I’ve known him since I was seven. He would tell me if he had any plans of leaving New York. Becca would probably tell me if he didn’t. The thing is, he wouldn’t just leave! And he sure as hell never saw me as someone who can’t be on his own, but –

“Gah! Sometimes it just feels like we live in the 30s, with Bucky trying to look out for me by finding me a partner like I’m some … some fragile person.” His voice strained under the intensity and force of his words. He had never noticed until now how genuinely upset he was about all this – he had never let himself get quite that riled up by this mix of humiliation and guilt and fear that shoved its way up inside him. “He seems so desperate to get me together with _someone_. I don’t understand it; I know he means well, Peg, he really does, but …”

Steve shrugged and remained silent for a long time, trying to pick his next words carefully. Trying to find a way to explain this tangle he did not want to look at too closely.

A warm hand squeezed his arm and all Steve could do was take a deep breath. He flexed his arm beneath Peggy’s gentle fingers and wrung his hands between his knees. With another deep breath, he closed his eyes and forced the rest out. No need to hold back now, he had already been louder than he had intended to be to begin with.

“Sometimes it’s just so … annoying and humiliating, you know? I mean, by God, I’m not a kid that needs looking after. I can manage on my own and I can meet people when I want to – I just- I don’t go out to find someone that often.”

“Why?” Peggy’s voice was gentle, unassuming, so in contrast to the increased agitation in Steve’s.

He could not hold back the guffawing laugh born out of incredulity that exploded out of him. “_Why_? Look at me, Peg!”

Again that raised eyebrow. It made her look like a conquering queen who would walk onto the battlefield to her general when all hope was lost to rally his strength one last time. It fascinated him and put him on guard at the same time. Peggy was not the type of woman who would back down easily and he liked that about her; it just made making her drop this subject so much more difficult.

“I’m serious. Just look at me.” He stood up, no longer able to sit still. With an angry swish of his hand he pointed at himself – all of his tiny, slim five feet something, dirty blond hair, thick glasses and bony angles.

He had come to accept that he would never be as tall or strong or muscled as other people – he did not want to be (most of the time). Accepting himself for who he was did not necessarily mean that it could not be somewhat of a sore spot. “I’m skinny and asthmatic. Not really what people are looking for in a date … or even a, a boyfriend.”

His voice shook with indignation and hurt. Most of the time, he really did not care. He had nothing to proof to other people and he knew his value, his Ma and Bucky and Mama Barnes had made sure of that.

Nevertheless, there were times, mostly late at night in his room, when he wished to be just a bit taller, just a bit stronger, just a bit healthier. It was superficial and selfish (something that was forced upon people by society, making them yearn to be this ideal, everything in the world told you to aspire to, as long as it wasn’t who you were right now), he knew that; he _knows_ that, but sometimes he wished that other people saw more in him than just a skinny kid who was too stubborn or stupid to back down from a fight.

Sometimes he wanted society to burn for making people feel less valuable or not accepted just because they were a little different.

“Steve, you listen to me now.” Peggy stood up as well, placing both hands on his shoulders to get his full attention. “You are an incredible artist and a kind, good man. Gosh, in London there’d be lines of people to date you and so much pining because you would already be engaged.”

“I don’t think so,” Steve scoffed, yet his lip twitched just for a second.

He could not look into her eyes and see that she really meant what she said. It struck too close to that sore spot he kept hidden so deep for most of the time that he did not care what people thought about him. It only mattered that he was himself, that he was the man his Ma would have been proud of; it was his conscience he had to live with after all, not that of other people. But every now and then it was just too hard to keep fighting against the current.

Peggy being Peggy was not as easily deterred. She would not let him wallow in self-pity. This was a part of Steve Rogers she assumed people rarely saw, if they deigned to look at all; if he _let_ them look that deeply. That alone infuriated her. How could people not see what a wonderful person Steve was? How did they let themselves be turned away? How did he himself not know?

“You make people want to do better, Steve.” She came around to stand in front of him again, waiting for him to look at her. “You make _me_ want to try even harder. I believe in what I’m doing, I really do …”

She shook her head with a sad smile. “Back home, my teachers had my back; they respected my choice to pursue this path and offered advice because they had known me since I was a teenager. Here?” – She shook her head, lips tight and dark eyes blazing with defiance and outrage – “I feel like a circus animal, jumping through every hoop they put in my way because they think I cannot do it and will quit if they just put this next task in front of me. They have to teach me because I sat their tests, and with fairly good results I may add, but every second they let me know that they think I don’t belong here, that they are just waiting for me to go back home. But you …” Her slender hands shook his shoulders in emphasis, her smile so open and honest that the artist in Steve catalogued every detail, sure to obsess over it later. And the mere sight of her so happy made Steve dizzy with joy. “_You_ just nodded and were excited for me when I told you.”

“What else should I have done? Peg, it doesn’t matter where you’re from or who you are, if you’re good at what you do and you study it, then you should get the best support the uni can offer!”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, her eyes soft and maybe a bit misty. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Steve opened his mouth, wanting to dissuade her, but he couldn’t. Peggy took that as a sign to go on. “You have to accept yourself, too. So if those girls don’t see it, than it is their fault. But other people see you for who you are. Bucky does, the girls do. I do. You’re a man worthy of attention, Steven. Never let anybody tell you any different, you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve finally managed, leaning his head forward ever so slowly while his heart was drumming out a staccato rhythm in his chest. Peggy’s arms came around him, holding him tight, so that the quiet '_Thank you_' fell from Steve’s lips onto her shoulder.

When he stepped away at last, he felt the heat of a faint blush burning his cheeks. “So you … you would not mind to have coffee with me?” It was meant to be a tease, but he realized that his words held more of his heart than he had initially intended to. And the words were already out of his mouth, no way to take them back now. When he peeked up at her from lowered lashes he could see one side of her mouth quirk upwards.

“I thought you don’t go out to find someone?” Peggy asked, every inch the prim and proper British woman. And Steve would have wanted to sink into the floor if he had not seen the curve of her lips go upward.

“You would not be someone,” Steve mumbled as loud and fast as he could before his courage deserted him. _God, what a mess._ He could feel his blush deepening, which probably now made him as red as a tomato from his neck up to his hairline.

“God, Rogers, that took you ages.” Steve did look up for real now, startled and amazed.

“What?”

“Don’t be daft. You really think that I would turn you down after what I just said? I would love to, Steve.”

A shy smile ventured out of hiding when he saw Peggy grinning. Her dark eyes sparkling and her cheeks were a faint pink that made Steve’s fingers itch for a pencil to follow its trail on paper.

“What about tomorrow?” She asked because otherwise they would get nowhere.

Steve nodded, still somewhat dumbfounded and giddy all together. “Sure, whatever works for you.”

# #

Steve flopped down on the sofa next to Bucky, his muscles burning from the self-defense class, but a smile blooming in his lips.

“How was it?” Bucky didn’t open his eyes, but scooted a bit to the side to make room for Steve.

“You know …” Steve waved his hand, indicating his slender built and the few bruises he always carried home from these classes. Some of his earlier worries returned, but talking to Peggy had lightened the weight on his chest. He was probably really just imagining things. Bucky was still Bucky after all, and maybe he just had a really bad month and shitty shifts at work and just could not be asked to deal with people anymore for now.

“Then why are you grinning like a lunatic?”

Steve shook his head, not even surprised that Bucky had known without even looking at him. “I finally managed that move where you use your opponent‘s momentum and throw them over your shoulder.”

From the proud little smile creeping on Bucky’s lips, Steve knew he was thinking about all the times Steve had asked him to be his willing victim to practice that move at home. “Who’d you throw?”

“Mary and … Peggy actually.”

Bucky smirked, opening one eye lazily to look at Steve. “Congrats.”

Steve could feel the tips of his ears burn, but he managed a dopey grin back, his legs bouncing on the floor. _How to start this?_

All he wanted to do was burst out with the words he’d been holding in all the way home. But there were too many; they pushed and shoved each other and got lodged in his chest eventually – too cumbersome and heavy to move further up and fall from his lips. And Bucky seemed half asleep; he always looked tired the few times a month he helped at the mechanics shop, but today he looked like death on his feet. He did not want to take his well-deserved rest away.

“Mind if I watch some TV?” Steve asked instead and grabbed the remote when Bucky shrugged.

They sat there for a while, side by side, none of them really looking at the screen. It seemed normal again, both of them spending the evening on the sofa after an exhausting day and not even caring one second if they were literally lying on top of each other.

At some point in the last week he had finally stopped over-analyzing the way they sat; it felt like before again – maybe a little less entangled, but still this over-awareness had finally receded. Their friendship was moving back into its old tracks and another knot in Steve’s chest loosened.

Which was good, because Steve needed his best friend right now. He had had dates before, but Peggy was … different. He didn’t want to screw this up and he would take all the help he could get. It was not like he needed his best friend’s approval – by god Bucky rarely asked him if he was okay with his current dates – but something in Steve whispered urgently that this was different. If Bucky was not okay with Peggy then-

Bucky had a thousand yard stare and didn't seem to care that Steve’s leg was still bouncing like a mad rubber ball and shaking the entire sofa in the process. Instead he just kept picking at the sofa’s armrest, his lips pursing every now and then before he pressed them into an angry flat line.

Finally, Bucky gave in with a sigh and turned to Steve, his eyes taking him in carefully, weighing him up. They narrowed as Steve’s fidgeting really sank in and Steve cocked his head to the side, waiting for whatever Bucky had on his mind. He felt like bursting, but there was something about Bucky that made him wait and shove everything else aside.

Where the world saw Bucky as the rough, charming trouble-maker who could sweet-talk anyone if he put his mind to it and who had not a care in the world he could not deal with, Steve knew his best friend was also someone who was just as stubborn as him and had an annoying tendency to keep his own troubles to himself. In the end, however, Bucky always would talk to him. It paid off to be patient with him.

“There is something … Well, I’ve been thinking a lot”, he said slowly, testing each word out.

Steve waited, body bow-string taut. Nothing followed those words for long minutes. Instead Bucky’s pale blue eyes narrowed even more, deep frown lines forming on his forehead and his gaze roamed over Steve as if trying to solve a puzzle. “You okay, Stevie?”

Steve waved him off, barley restraining the words that wanted to rush out. His need to give his best friend the space to talk was more important. “All fine. Go on.”

Another searching look. “Something is up, Rogers. Spit it out.”

“But-“

“I can wait five more minutes.”

“You sure?” Steve asked, his whole body thrumming with nerves now. He started fidgeting with his shirt to give this energy some outlet.

Bucky actually took the time to mull that question over and that was the only reason Steve accepted his answer. Maybe he should have been more insistent, should have pushed more – but as they say, hindsight is a bitch. “If it will stop you from moving that sofa across the room with all the bouncing you’re doing.”

“Sorry.” Steve forced himself to stay still. It lasted exactly five seconds. Bucky arched an eyebrow in a way that almost shouted '_told you_ '.

“Fine. Fine.” Steve licked his lips. His hands trembled. He took a deep breath before the words finally tore free of whatever had been holding them. “Peggy wants to go on a date with me.”

His heart thundered, the thrill of Peggy’s words still sent it into a gallop that felt like the onset of an asthma attack. With the only difference that this crazy beating of his heart sent sizzles through his body and left him exhilarated and did not get him admitted to a hospital if he was unlucky.

Seconds ticked by, the TV chirping on merriely with some commercial or other. Bucky stared at him, then blinked. Slowly.

Words gushed out of Steve’s mouth, the levy now broken. “A date, Buck. With Peggy! I mean … What do I _do_? I asked Peggy Carter out and she actually said yes!? I have no idea how that happened or how I did not make a total mess of it. I mean, she’s amazing ... God, I’ve never met anyone like her and she is interested in me. Me!” – He waved frantically at his grey shirt that had paint embedded in its very fabric – “She could go out with anyone, but somehow, and I don’t know how or why, she-” Steve stopped to shake his head, still dumbfounded by Peggy Carter. “I somehow am going on a date with her and I need your help, Buck. I’m a total mess.”

“Everyone passing up a date with you is an idiot,” Bucky muttered and Steve’s smile could have lit up the lower half of Manhattan on his own.

“She said almost the same,” Steve confessed in a hushed whisper, turning red and looking away. His stomach was twisting itself into knots. “So you think she’s … I dunno. You know her too, so I thought … Bucky, you would tell me if I was making a mistake, right?”

Steve was looking at Bucky with his big blue puppy eyes, so honest and real and utterly helpless in this moment that it would need a heart of stone to not give in to the silent pleading. Bucky blinked again, his lips parting slowly when he formed each word quietly, filled each syllable with a visceral intensity that made Steve go still.

“She’s a nice, smart girl, frighteningly competent at what she does. Also she knows how to drag you out of an alley and give you hell for being reckless. Can’t see her pulling off any two-faced bitchiness; she’s too much like you in that respect, wears her heart on her sleeve for those close to her.”

“She wouldn’t have accepted if she didn’t want to go out with you,” he added almost like an afterthought, slowly pressing his fingers against each other as if he were rolling a cigarette.

Steve smiled even brighter. Happiness bubbled up inside him, shaking his frame and loosening all those knots in this gut. When Bucky got up, however, that high vanished as quickly as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him.

Steve caught his shirt when his best friend would have walked away. “Wait. You wanted to tell me something.”

“Not important.” Bucky easily walked out of his grasp, his movements somewhat too precise.

“You alright? Did anything happen at work?” Steve got up too, grabbing his best friend by the arm and turning him halfway around. “Bucky, did you get hurt?”

He tried to see if there was any evidence of him actually having sustained an injury at work.

“What? No! ‘S all good. Just tired.”

“Buck,” Steve tried again, but was waved off.

“It was nothing, Rogers. Go, fret over your date with Carter or something. You should wear that blue button down if you really want to impress her, by the way. And don’t try anything fancy with your hair, just … brush it.”

Steve looked at him, raising his chin and planting his feet down firmly in front of Bucky, all five foot four of him. He would not move, come what may.

“Fine!” Bucky threw his hands up, his hold on patience snapping in two; Steve had not even been aware of that patience until the ends hit him in the face. “I quit Starbucks. I can’t take all these wanna-be suits anymore who think they rule the world and tell me that venti does not make sense following tall and grande and can’t even say _thank you_.”

“That’s great?” Steve supplied, suddenly confused by the harsh lines on Bucky’s face. Those pale eyes looked far away again, his shoulders already turning away from Steve.

“Whatever,” he muttered, vanishing into his room, leaving Steve standing in the middle of the living room, the TV playing a cheery pop song that was jarring in its contrast to Bucky’s stormy exit.


	19. Time To Regroup I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fending off the attackers and getting Clint back, the friends have to regroup, which might be more dangerous than they first thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the emotional interlude last week, a bit of comic relief.  
Two of the scenes were one of the things that solidfied the idea of an Avengers Jumanji because that "going to the loo" scene was too pure and too good to let it go to waste.

**Chapter 14**

They found everyone in command central, all in one piece, but exhausted and dirty. Clint was sprawled in a chair, sporting a mean red bruise across his forehead and an ice pack covering one of his eyes. “You didn’t find any aspirin on the way, did you?”

“Sorry, bud. Just ran out of stock,” Tony replied with a tight smile, clapped him on the shoulder and sank down on the other chair with an exaggerated groan. His suit was back to its wristband form – the only indication that he had not been twiddling his thumbs was his messy hair and the drawn, pale look on his face. Even the atrocity of a moustache could not hide that. “Please tell me we found the scepter.”

“Well …” Jane wrung her hands. “About that.”

“No! Just- no. I’m too sober to hear any bad news/worse news speeches.” Tony got up and opened random cupboards and drawers. “Someone on this bloody ship must have smuggled some alcohol on it!”

“Tony.”

Tony slammed a few more cupboard doors closed for good measure, but gave up in the end. Arms crossed over his chest and with a look that said he was extremely unhappy with everything at the moment, he waved his hand in a grand gesture for Jane to just spill it.

“Loki’s gone, he took the scepter.”

Steve simply sat down on the floor. “Now what?”

“Don’t ask me; I have no idea what this chase is supposed to be about anymore,” Tony groused, glaring at the tablet in his hands he had had pulled from somewhere as if it was personally responsible for everything that had just happened.

“I assume the mission still stays the same. We need to get the scepter in order to leave the game,” Natasha summarized.

“Ha, great rhyming. Sure you’re you are not part of the game?”

Natasha ignored Tony – only glared in his direction as she continued to talk. “Jane, is your homing device working?”

“Erm …” A few gently taps on said device activated it again and it started beeping. “Sure. I’m not certain about how far the scepter can go before we lose the signal, but it should work for a while.”

“He may be heading to the east coast.”

“What?” All eyes turned to Clint. He flinched under all their stares. He tried to shrug it off, but Steve could see the tension around his eyes and mouth. “The soldiers were saying something about one of the cities being the center stage for Loki’s plan.”

“Great, just let us fly this huge piece of metal toward the east coast. He’ll never see us coming, if we manage to actually get the city right. Maybe he’ll wait for us to get it right?!”

“Cut it, Tony!” Natasha warned, palming her Widow Bites.

“It’s a valid concern! We can’t just swim there and hope to pick the right city.”

They stared at each other, tension thickening the air in the room.

With a deep sigh, Bucky stepped between the two of them before things could get ugly. “We’ll get there somehow, but first we should actually eat something, take a break? How long have we been inside this game already? I dunno ‘bout you guys, but I need to piss. Anyone happen to know where the bathroom is on this fucking ship?”

“Listen to the man,” Tony joined in, grabbing the chance to scramble away from a confrontation with Natasha with both hands and then some. His nose was almost glued to the surface of his tablet that he held up like it could protect him from Natasha’s wrath, but one hand was outstretched and unerringly pointed at Bucky. “A break it is then – and someone find me the hard stuff.”

“I think I might have seen it at one point when we were looking for the scepter,” Steve said, climbing to his feet again.

“Thank the gods. I was afraid no one would need to pee.” All eyes turned to Jane and she shifted under their attention, making her elaborate. “I really, really need to pee, but could someone explain how to do it in … this body?”

Her words were accompanied by more staring. In the silence the cut-off alarm had left behind, Tony’s jaw dropped like a bomb to the floor, Clint sniggered after a second. Then Tony raised his hand almost in slow motion. “Not me.”

Clint, still a bit wobbly on his feet, followed suit almost immediately. Not even a severe concussion could have stopped him from opting out on that one. “Not me either.”

Steve and Bucky, both still a bit dumbstruck, looked at Tony and Clint with their hands raised in the air and an expression of immense relief on their faces. With twin expressions of shock they turned pleading eyes to Natasha.

“Sorry boys. I’m out anyway,” she brushed them off with a shark smile that could not hide her glee at the current situation. “I think you’re much better at this than me.”

In the end, they had no choice. Steve knew the way, so he accompanied Bucky and Jane. The silence of their walk chafed at his skin, the awkwardness of the entire situation increasing the further they walked without speaking.

It was not really far to the small wing tucked away in some random branch of this ship that housed changing rooms, showers and toilets. With each step, Steve thought he could feel eyes boring into this neck. His brain insisted it must be Bucky.

Was he still thinking about their conversation before Jane had crashed it? Would he be wondering who Steve meant? Steve shook his head forcefully. He was thinking too much.

A quick glance back showed him that Bucky was just walking a step behind him, gaze firmly fixed on the empty hallway ahead of them and hands stuffed in his pockets.

“It’s just around here.” He motioned to the next door that looked just like all the others and pushed it open. Glaring neon lights flickered to life with the grumpy hum of static.

“Here goes nothing,” Bucky muttered as he walked past Steve and into the tiled changing room. Lockers lined the left-hand side of the wall and they found the door towards the showers and toilets on the right.

“You know that this is super awkward and I would never do that if it was not really necessary, right?”

“No worries, Jane. We get it,” Steve waived her off with the slightest blush on his cheeks.

“As long as we’ll never talk about this ever again,” Bucky groused from ahead, waving a head at a row of ceramic bowls hanging from the wall. “Lady chooses.”

Jane nodded and went ahead to the one furthest from the door. Bucky followed silently and stopped in front of the one that was two down from Jane. He eyed Steve suspiciously when he stopped in front of one of the toilets too.

“Just figured I’m already here and … you know.”

Bucky just blinked. Visibly shaking his head, his best friend turned to Jane. Steve made a point of staring straight ahead at the clean white tiles until his eyes watered.

“Just … Zipper down, get it out and aim. Not much of an art, really. Just … pee. Like this.”

Steve heard the metallic _writsh_ of the zipper being pulled down and clothes rustled. Then silence and … urine hitting the ceramic bowl. A second zipper followed, slower and more hesitant.

“Like … this?”

“By god, woman! You don’t look at other men’s goods while they pee!” Bucky gawked and Steve had to stifle a laugh. This entire situation was ridiculous and if anybody would have told him about it, he would have laughed so hard he’d have given himself an asthma attack.

“Sorry. Holy shit! You can actually really aim with it! This is … like this is the most amazing thing ever. You have no idea how useful that is. Do you know how lucky you are? Avoiding dirty highway restrooms by squatting down in the next bush is _not_ fun, I can tell you!”

Steve burst out laughing and could not stop. Even the glare Bucky sent his way did nothing to stuff that sound back into his body again. In fact, it made it even worse and Steve had to brace a hand against the cold tiles to stop himself from smacking face-first into the wall.

“Har-har, Rogers. Get a grip.” He could hear Bucky zip up and walk to the sinks at the other side. “How old are you? Twelve?”

“Sorry,” he managed between gasps, not really sorry at all. “Sorry. I think the adrenaline crash is finally catching up with me.”

When they were all finished and had washed their hands, Jane still had that glint in her eyes. “This is really something, guys. I need to show Natasha!”

“Noooo,” Bucky wailed, one hand coming up to hide his face. He turned on Jane. “Second rule of bro-club: You do not, I repeat, you do _not_, talk about your goods or flash them in front of anyone in public. Even for science.”

“Unless, you know, you want to get it on.”

Bucky stared at him as if he had grown three heads. “Not helping, Rogers.”

Jane snickered. “Fine, I’ll spare your delicate constitution then.”

Steve let Jane walk past him and kept holding the door, waiting for Bucky.

One moment, Bucky was walking towards him quite normally – or as normally as it would be under these circumstances –, then he froze mid-step. Steve could literally feel the air around them pull taut and electrify like it did right before those summer storms in Brooklyn when the little hair on your arm stood up and you could taste the ozone on the air.

“You’re fucking shitting me!” Bucky stalked towards him, shoulders and head pushed forward like a bull about to attack.

Steve did not move a muscle; not even the hand he had on the door.

“Tell me” – Bucky grasped his arm and held it in such a way that the underside of Steve’s wrist was visible – “that this is _not_ what it looks like Rogers!”

Steve looked down, about to reply that he had no idea what Bucky was going on about when he glimpsed the cause for all this. “Oh.”

“Yes. Fucking _oh_!” Bucky leaned in, almost standing on his toes to get his face so close to Steve’s their noses clashed. He bared his teeth. “What were you thinking?!”

Steve’s hackles rose. He swallowed down the bitter reply that was trying to claw its way out of his throat. It sat heavy on his tongue, bitterness coating his words. “It’s nothing.”

Bucky was leaning back slightly, taking a deep breath for another rant. Steve cut him right off. “I still have two lives left. They caught me by surprise and I … I fell, okay? Nothing we can do about it now, so just leave it be.”

Every fiber in his body felt like it was torn to pieces, but he forced himself to brush past Bucky. He kept his arm on the door for as long as he could to prevent it from hitting him in the side. In the end, he had to let go to catch up with Jane who had casually walked down the hallway to give them some privacy. Bucky was still standing there, seething.

Steve caught up with Jane, who tilted her head in a silent question.

“Nothing,” Steve waved her off and kept on walking.

“But-“

“It’s fine. He’ll catch up.”

It did not take long for heavy steps to pound down the hallway. Steve barely suppressed the urge to look over his shoulder. The thundering sound came closer and closer until Bucky stormed past them, eyes focused on the end of the hallway, fists clenched at his sides. He pivoted on his heel to catch the corner for the command central and when Steve entered with Jane, he was just in time to see Bucky snatch the mug out of Tony’s hands. “I hope you found the fucking scotch, Stark.”

There was squawking and hands trying to get the mug back, but Bucky just took a large step back, tipping the stolen mug and his head back greedily.

Before any of them could get out anything that made sense or before Steve could ask what the hell was going on now, Bucky started coughing. Not just a minor cough because something tickled his airways. No. This was a fully-grown bending-over-double coughing fit. It sounded worse than Steve’s asthma attacks.

“That’s coffee you idiot!” Tony finally got his hands on the mug and pulled it away as if proximity alone could stop Bucky from hacking his lungs to pieces.

“Why would- Shit!” Steve ran half a step forward, then stopped.

Bucky was slowly straightening his upper body. Coughs still wracked his frame, his eyes were watering and he had the fingers of one hand hooked into his chest like claws. “Coffee ain’t never killed nobody. I was just-“ Another cough that ended in three more. “Just breathing and drinking at the same time. Not a good idea.”

He made as if to get the mug back from Tony, who danced away and held the mug behind his back.

“Sometimes I wonder how humans did survive,” Natasha muttered off to the side, next to a table with some food.

Clint snorted and shook his head. “Tasha, I hate to break it to you, but you’re also a-“

** _BOOM_ ** _!_

“Holy fucking sweet baby Jesus!” Tony screamed while scrambling behind a chair.

Steve, ever himself, ran forward, towards the blast zone, but it was too late. His outstretched hand found nothing but thin air where Bucky should have been. Where Bucky _had_ been just a moment ago before …

“I guess that is why coffee is his weakness,” Jane said slowly, dazed.


	20. Time To Regroup II

**Chapter 15**

In the silence that followed, Bucky dropping from somewhere above them hardly seemed to make a sound. Steve felt the hard _thunk_ of combat boots hitting the floor more than he actually heard it.

They were all still frozen in place when Bucky got up slowly, brushing his hands on his thighs even though there was not a speck of dust on them.

The two bars on Steve’s forearm seemed to pulse and his stomach twisted when the realization set it. That had been Bucky’s second death. Only one life left and they didn’t even know … A quick glance from Bucky stopped Steve from spiraling further down into that particular rabbit hole. Bucky knew.

_Faced worse odds_, he seemed to say and Steve wanted to laugh. Not really. In all those back alley fights and scuffles Bucky had jumped in to save his ass, Steve had always known that Bucky would be there at the end. Beaten up and bloody and most likely mad at him for getting into a fight again, but still there, holding a damp cloth to the cut above Steve’s eyebrow, getting the frozen peas from the freezer to cool the blooming bruise right below his ribs.

Steve took a steady breath. It would help no one to panic now, but by god, how his stomach lurched.

“Right, guess that means no coffee for me then.” Bucky seemed unfazed by his new death, but Steve saw the slight trembling of his hands. He hid it well, hid it smoothly with the way he tucked down his sleeves a bit more.

“While this was a very over dramatic demonstration of 'why coffee is bad for you' TM, I think it will not make me stop,” Stark said, sauntering around the chair he had taken cover behind, “Sorry Barnes, but your methods are too dramatic. Try again next time.” His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders down and face arranged in the expression of a mild displeasure. To Steve it looked a bit too put on, too forced. They probably all thought that, yet they let Tony pretend, let him lighten the mood.

“Did you actually find anything to eat while we were gone?” Steve heard himself ask and approached the table.

There actually was food on it, pre-packed sandwiches, popcorn for some reason and the odd apple.

“Best we could find,” Clint mumbled around a sandwich, crumbs littering his lap. “Definitely not the best this side of the Mississippi, but there is worse. I’ve _had_ worse.”

“I told you that mixing pickle juice with that pasta was a bad idea.”

They all tried and failed to imagine what that would taste like (or likely recoiled from even the faintest approximation of that taste), so no one asked Natasha for any specifics to that particular story.

Tony pointed his mug at Clint. “You’re not doing any catering for future parties I have.”

“Bummer. You’ll regret this day when I become one of the best impromptu chefs in New York.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let him loose on the general public. Being a danger to himself is fine, but unsuspecting people is where I draw the line.”

“Harsh, Tasha.”

Bucky chuckled. “Just don’t hire Steve then, Stark. He’ll burn your kitchen down before the buffet is even opened.”

Steve felt his cheeks go hot. He knew it was true and he had dragged his inability to cook through the mud more than once, so he just rolled his eyes. “I’m better at beating up unwanted party guests.”

Tony snorted. “Like that, sure you are, Cap.”

“Speaking of beating up people, where did Loki go?”

They all looked at Jane who fidgeted a bit under their attention.

“Well … erm.” She almost tripped, trying to get the homing beacon from where she had put it. “Let’s hope this still works.” A silent click as the device was turned on again and the green screen came to life. A few seconds passed then: “Still moving. Somewhere to the west.”

“Great, that includes the entire east coast,” Tony complained with hands up in the air, “If this stupid game is based on actual geography and hasn’t thrown us into Narnia or something.”

“You would need a wardrobe for that,” Natasha threw in with a deadpan voice.

“What? Pff.” Tony waved her off. “Spoil sport.”

“I think I can be of some assistance here.”

“Great. Noooow he appears again.” Tony stalked toward Agent Jarvis. “A little help earlier would have been nice.”

Jarvis simply blinked at him, but remained quiet.

Steve looked at the others. Natasha and Bucky shrugged their shoulders. Clint was still demolishing his sandwich and leaving crumbs everywhere (“Should never waste a chance to eat.”) and Jane was typing away on her device, munching on a cookie she had pulled out of some secret pocket.

“What do you mean? Help us how?” Steve asked. He figured that might be a better approach than making this in-game character try to explain the game. Maybe he was just a clueless as they were – okay, he had some added information they did not have. But then again, they had been sucked into this game; Jarvis, on the other hand, was part of it.

“Oh, Captain. The Commander is very grateful that you and Iron Man prevented the helicarrier from crashing. We’re also relieved to see that you all made it so far. But I fear the hardest part is yet to come.”

“Yadda, yadda, yadda. Spit it out, J-Man. What has this game in store for us now?”

“Do you know where Loki is going?” Natasha asked, green eyes narrowed in suspicion like a cat ready to pounce.

“We were able to catch some communication between the soldiers who attacked the carrier and some sort of ground crew that seems to be waiting for Loki. They are preparing the city for the final stages of his plan.”

“What. City?” Stark ground out, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

Steve could only agree. He was sick of this beating around the bush – why couldn’t anyone here just tell them to go to point A, do thing B and then get out of here again, please and thank you? But he had also learned that it did not pay off to demand too loudly, to push people too far. His Ma had raised him better than that. But by god did he want to shake this man until they had an answer.

“New York City. Loki is heading towards New York City. ETA approximately half an hour.”


	21. Interlude

**INTERLUDE**

Standing in front of Bucky’s door, Steve hesitated again. It felt … weird. He had done this a million times before without even thinking about it. It was just the way it had been for so long that he had never questioned it. Bucky’s room, his room – it almost did not matter; it was their flat, their space.

More and more often however, Steve thought about that morning after the hockey game and it seemed like everything they had established in the years of their friendship had shifted in meaning. It made him second-guess every interaction and if he was being honest, it made him miss Bucky in a way he never had before. Worse, it made him think about _more_. It was an ache in his chest that was somehow old and new at the same time. He blamed it on the fact that they had always spent every day together since they were little and now his time was divided between uni, Buck and Peggy.

The more time he spent with her, the more Steve felt the strange … not tension really, but something very much akin to loss. Even after uni Bucky seemed to be barely at home and the time he saw his best friend dwindled down to fleeting glances in the uni corridors or the crack of their apartment door when he came home, smelling of booze and perfume.

Checking in on Bucky via text even when Steve was out with Peggy never resulted in much, only short answers that took ages to get back to him. The relief he got from getting this succinct life sign of Bucky always felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Bucky was okay, he might not say much, but they still were friends.

Steve was trying to give Bucky time and space to work through whatever kept him away for so long, but increasingly Steve felt as if he was losing his best friend. And that was something he felt keenly. The constant drinking on Bucky’s part was not helping. Sure, Bucky was an adult and could do whatever he wanted, but there was such a thing as unhealthy habits and Steve would only watch his best friend indulge in them for so long.

Although the mere words of Bucky telling him that he was going out, again, had his stomach in angry knots, he had kept quiet so far. Nevertheless, Steve had made it a point of clattering in the kitchen or dragging Bucky on morning runs for the lack of words he wanted to hurl at his best friend’s head sometimes. Deep inside, he also did it to show Bucky he was still here, would always be there. _Just talk to me._

Despite Steve having to drag Bucky out of his bed for some morning runs when Bucky was clearly still sleeping off the rum from last night, his best friend hand only glared at him instead of telling him to fuck off. Breaking that almost-tradition, it would …. No, Steve did not really know what that would cause or mean for their friendship, nor did he want to think about any such scenario.

Shaking his head, Steve chased away those thoughts. They never led anywhere, only to more questions that he could never answer. Did he really sit that close? Was it normal to barge into your best friend’s room at the crack of dawn?

He heard himself knock before entering the organized chaos of Bucky’s room. Its familiarity was soothing in a way only a few things ever were. It was so Bucky … And this morning it did not smell like the nauseating mix of stale booze and cloying perfume from the night before.

Steve smiled and made his voice sound as cheerful and chipper as he could. “Morning, Buck. Ready for a run?”

A miserable sound emanated from below the pillow. Bucky’s dark head snuggling deeper into his bed, hiding almost entirely as if that could spare him from getting out of bed and actually running.

“Come on you lazy bone, get up,” Steve laughed all too happily and pulled the blanket back down. With a muffled _thud_ a book fell down on the floor.

Steve left Bucky to lie for the few seconds it took him to pick up the book. He turned it around in his hands and smile fondly at his best friend’s tendency to stay up too late because he could not put down his reading. “I’m sure _Illuminae_ is not part of your curriculum.”

The pillow Bucky threw at him missed by a mile and Steve’s chuckle settled snuggly in the chaos of Bucky’s room as if it was one more thing his best friend kept hording there.

“C’mon Buck. I’ll make you coffee and wait in the kitchen.” Steve walked back to their kitchen to get the coffee machine going. As always, Bucky followed about ten minutes later.

Steve started his warm-up stretched and looked up at Bucky and smiled when he finally shuffled in. Bucky still looked half asleep, cradling the coffee mug in his hands. Although he was dressed in running clothes, his dark hair was all tangled together. With some effort, Steve made himself looked away and continued stretching.

He was almost through his set, but the few minutes it took to warm up the last few muscle groups somehow stretched into a small eternity. The entire length of his neck prickled with the awareness of eyes on him and it was suddenly way to warm in their tiny apartment.

Was it just him or had the universe just shrunken to this tiny kitchen space they were occupying? Had the universe ever encompassed anything else?

Steve did not look up again; he stubbornly kept his eyes on a spot on the floor in front of him. This was Bucky, right? His best friend whom he … wanted to look at him? Whose dates caused a constriction inside his chest every time they were mentioned? Whom he checked up on even when he was out with his girlfriend?

Was a best friend supposed to feel that way?

_Not now, Rogers!_ He jerked his thoughts to a halt and pushed his body down even harder, his sinews and muscles stretching, a fine line of fire running up his calves. He could hear Bucky finishing his mug in one big gulp before he saw his silhouette starting to stretch next to him. “And just so you know, that book is amazing. Just read it and try not to stay up till four in the morning, Rogers.”

Steve only shook his head, hiding his twitching lips by standing up and leaning over his left leg, trying to reach his toes. But because he was a little shit, he could not keep his mouth shut. “At least I would look better pulling off an all-nighter like that.” The fact that probably all the other all-nighters of the last few weeks had included alcohol and had left their mark went unsaid.

Bucky flipped him off with a cocky, teeth-bearing grin. “You wish.”

Maybe he hadn’t heard the silent sting in Steve’s words? Maybe he had chosen to ignore it? There was so much left unsaid between them recently that Steve was already lost in all those things left unsaid.

He finished his warm up and was already waiting in the hallway when Bucky looked at him, rolled his eyes and turned to Steve’s room with a muttered '_Seriously, Rogers_'.

Steve waited, curious, and laughed when Bucky came back with a scarf in his hand.

“It’s cold,” Bucky said, wrapping the scarf around Steve’s neck. “You know that it’s already getting chilly and your asthma is acting up when the air’s too cold.”

Steve huffed and fussed around a bit with the scarf, but left it snuggly wrapped around his neck. Something in his chest had eased. Maybe they were finally turning a corner.


	22. Avengers Assemble I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their new goal is clear – New York City. But they don’t have much time until Loki will open the portal and start the attack on their virtual home.  
With a ploy Tony manages that Clint gets the scepter.  
In the meantime, Jane figures out a way to shut down the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, off the helicarrier and in NY at least. Well, almost. But we'll get there within this chapter block (which is quite a long one this time).  
Let the Battle of New York begin.

**Chapter 16**

The rest of their preparations passed in a blur for Steve. He heard himself talk, ask questions about their plan, suggest a better approach, but they all really had no idea what they would be getting themselves into. Even Jarvis seemed unsure about that one, which was even more worrying. But what choice did they have?

They had turned over each and every page they could get their hands on, examined each morsel of information as best as they could. Every time they asked Jarvis for more – more background, more information, more anything – he looked at them with an awkward smile and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. They had theories, yes, but no tangible evidence of what this Loki character was really about to unleash upon New York with this scepter. All they knew was that Loki would need Stark Tower (yes, that name had caused quite a riot among them) for something. And yet they were sitting in some sort of plane full of weapons (so different from anything Steve had ever seen and armed up to the edges of its smooth wings) now heading towards New York, with the fate of this virtual world on their shoulders.

Steve gripped the strap above his head harder as they hit a slight bump in their flight; the engine hummed uninterrupted as before, which was at least somewhat comforting, but it did nothing to abate the low-level background nausea sitting in the pit of his stomach.

It certainly did not feel like they knew what they were doing. Their plan of 'Let’s see what Loki has done in New York and wing it from there' was not reassuring. At the end of the day, however, it was better than nothing. To get out of this game, they had to go there and get the scepter.

Even though those things should occupy his thoughts as supposed leader of their little superhero group, Steve’s mind was mulling over something different alright. He did not even care that it was not the upcoming fight. The life of these virtual people might be hanging in the balance, but Bucky was right _there_. The image of that lone black bar on the inside of his wrist had burned itself to the back of Steve’s eyelids. It was like the uncomfortable feeling of a tiny stone in his shoe that he just could not get rid of.

Without even consciously realizing what he was doing, Steve brushed his sleeve with the fingertips of one hand, right above the point where his two black bars were.

They did not know what they would walk into once they landed. Their only destination was Stark Tower. Steve still could not suppress his smirk whenever that building’s name came up. Bucky had simply raised an eyebrow, a perfect twin to Natasha’s 'I am severely judging you' face while Clint had just laughed with his head thrown back and Jane had shaken her head in fond exasperation. Tony on the other hand, had preened and shrugged his shoulders.

“Guess someone in this game did have good taste after all,” had been all they had let him say about this.

“You all right?”

“Hm?” Steve looked at Jane. She had to bend her head to avoid hitting it against the small plane’s sides curing up towards the ceiling every now and then. “Yeah, just thinking. Did you get any new information on the scepter?”

“Not really.” Jane sighed, leafing through a small note book with densely written text that consistent more of symbols and confusing code than intelligible words – at least that was what it looked like to Steve.

She and Tony had been furiously scrolling through files and data upon data to build their meager plan on more than just '_let’s hope for the best_'. Their efforts had only amounted to so much - that Loki apparently needed the energy source Stark Tower used to power up some device that would use the scepter to open a portal into another dimension. The little notebook had been a lucky find, but the information in it remained a mystery to large extents.

Tony had scoffed at that, but Steve had seen the tension in his shoulders, the involuntary twitching in his jaw.

“There is not really much I can work with right now. I need to see this portal up close to know where it goes and what will come through it,” Jane explained now, her large hand almost swallowing the notebook.

“Let’s work on the assumption that it can’t be anything good.” Natasha’s words crackled over the plane comm lines and Steve could only agree. The game had only gotten more difficult – it was unlikely it would let them off easy now. If they really had to get the scepter back, then that meant that Loki would be their final opponent. And in how many games in the history of games had the end boss ever been anything other than a huge pain in the ass you needed to save your progress for tons of times before you finally got it right and defeated them?

Steve nodded, eyes sliding to Bucky. Again. He could not help it. Only one life left. What if-

“ETA five minutes, boys,” Tony shouted from the front, “and girls.”

Steve was barley surprised anymore that Tony seemed to know everything about anything even remotely related to engineering and machines. It still had been a surprise, however, when Clint had sat down in the pilot seat and turned on their plane as if he had done this all his life. And it had taken them about five minutes of clinging to the lines at the plane’s wall before they could relax their grips and actually believe that Clint would not crash-land them somewhere in the ocean.

Making a snap-decision, Steve walked the two half-steps over to Bucky. There was enough space left – the plane was not too big, but with three of them in the cockpit and the rest in the back area, it did leave some space to move around.

Words were forming and re-forming in his brain, but his tongue was tied in knots as he sat down again. He wanted to say so many things. There were so many possible ways to start this conversation … This felt like the end approaching, like the last chance he would get – and still no damn words would leave his lips. Was he really that afraid that his little confession would cost him their friendship?

“I know,” Bucky said quietly, not really looking at Steve but at the other side of the plane. “This feels so unreal and yet-” His voice dropped so low Steve could almost not hear him over the engine. “You afraid, Stevie?”

“Scared shitless,” he admitted without a second of hesitation. This was Bucky after all – they had no secrets. Well, they hadn’t used to have any secrets.

His heart was hammering in his chest, a deep drum beat getting louder and louder. He wanted all of them to get back to this stupid basement in the university safe and sound. He wanted all of this to be over. He wanted Bucky to … He wanted Bucky.

“You only have one life left,” Steve heard himself say. His eyes locked on Buck and finally (!) Bucky turned his head, grey-blue eyes fixed on Steve, unwavering, familiar. It sent a tingle down Steve’s spine and he suppressed a shiver.

He wanted to say more, but was jostled in his seat as the plane landed. It was smoother than most landings Steve had sat through on regular flights, he noted in some part of this brain, but flying in an even smaller metal can with some futuristic design and dubious power source made the entire experience seem even more dangerous.

“We always get one life.” Bucky’s words were soft and for a second he looked down at his dark fatigues, hands clenched in fists on his thighs.

Steve’s hands itched with the urge to cover Bucky’s fists with his own, make him relax his fingers one by one. All he did in the end was lean forward to catch every word, elbows braced on his thighs.

“That’s how it works. You have to decide who you wanna be.” Bucky looked back up at him, lips tilted upward in that crooked, daredevil smile that was featured on the odd pages in a certain drawing book. Steve felt himself smile too, although his palms were sweating and his heart was beating like crazy.

_Don’t die in this game, Bucky. Stay with me to the end. _The words were wrapped around his rib cage, woven between each of its bones so tightly they made it hard to breathe. He wanted to say it, but they were too big, suffocating. He could only plead with his eyes.

“Certainly has never stopped you from not going into a fight you could not win.” The edge of his words was taken off by the fondness in Bucky’s face and the heavy hand he squeezed Steve’s shoulder with a second before he got up. The door of the plane slid open and Jane’s huge form already blotted out the light streaming in as she exited.

Steve jerked to his feet like a puppet pulled up on its strings. He needed to- _Now!_

He grabbed Bucky’s arm, his lips moved in an attempt to form words, but still nothing came out. His throat was so dry. Steve snarled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Bucky-“

Tony, Natasha and Clint emerged from the front, filing out slowly. Tony was pointing at the huge letters spelling his name that graced the building just a few feet below them. Clint said something that had Natasha rolling her eyes and Tony gawk even louder, finger pointed up in the air.

Bucky ignored them just like Steve did and looked back at him. Steve was barely breathing, trying to swallow and get his throat to work. Bucky would cock his head to the side in just a moment, contemplating, thinking, wondering.

“Bucky, I uhm … You- you are,” Steve stuttered. Blood rushed in his ears as if the plane were still in motion. He tightened the hand he held Bucky with. Panic was rising in his chest, wrapped its cold hand around his throat and squeezed, squeezed. Why could he not say it, damn it?!

“Chop, chop, boys!” Tony hollered from outside.

“Coming!” Bucky never looked away from Steve. His eyes softened and Steve could literally see how concern wrapped itself around Bucky like a piece of cloth, deepening the lines on his face to dark shadows and hiding everything else. With a quick step, he was so close to Steve that there was only a breath of space between them. “Stevie, talk to me.”

Steve squeezed his arm harder and felt sinews and bone shift beneath his grip. He let go, remembering that he was stronger in this game now than he had ever been, that he could probably hurt Bucky without meaning to. The fact that he was taller as well and that he did not have to look _up_ to Bucky was not really soothing the sudden vertigo.

He swallowed, leaning closer to Bucky and Bucky did not step back to keep the space between them; if at all, Bucky stepped in closer too and rested his forehead against Steve’s, bringing his other hand up to rest on Steve’s neck. His thumb stroked up and down over his rushing pulse.

“Talk to me, Stevie.” A familiar whisper that soothed and comforted.

Up and down. Up and down that thumb went. Steve tried to match his breathing to the soothing rhythm. Up and down. Breathe in and out. Like they used to do when Steve had an asthma attack and no inhaler at hand. “We’ll get out of here, I promise. We’ll be home in no time.”

Steve was already shaking his head. “No, not what I … I know, Buck. I know that.”

His throat was too dry again, but he pushed through. He licked his lips, gathered all the courage he had and just let go. “It’s you,” Steve whispered on a rush of adrenaline and fear, eyes locked with Bucky. “The breakup is- I can’t stop thinking about _you_, Buck. That other person … it’s you.”

“C’mon you two. The world won’t wait!” Tony stomped back and just took one look at them before he threw up his hands. “Riiiight, I’m- Nope, no. Just- not touching that one. I’m not qualified to deal with highly emotional talks. Just wrap it up and get going, boys. Time is a-wasting.”


	23. Avengers Assemble II

**Chapter 17**

Like the coward he was, Steve took that opportunity and literally ran out of the plane.

He was giving Bucky time to come to terms with what he had just verbally thrown at him.

He was giving Bucky privacy to figure out how that made him feel.

He was not running away.

_Yeah, right._ He was lying to himself and he knew it, but it did not make him turn around.

Truth was Steve was afraid of what his best friend would say. He felt shaky all over and he grabbed the edge of the plane’s sliding door harder than necessary to stop himself from smashing face down on the landing pad. _One step in front of the other, Rogers. One step in front of the other._

His heart was still fluttering in his chest, tiny tremors sneaking down from the center of his chest into his arm and hands. At the same time, he could still feel the brand of Bucky’s hand wrapped around one side of his neck. Why did he suddenly feel like the world could slide away from him at any second? What he’d just said – It was the block that had been pulled out of a Jenga tower that caused it to sway dangerously from side to side. Finally making that move could either win the game with the tower maybe wobbling slightly but still intact or send everything crashing down. Yes, that’s what it was like. At the moment, the tower was still swaying, not yet falling, and Steve was caught staring, desperately hoping it would not come crashing down and take all these years of his friendship with Bucky with it.

Blinking rapidly and shaking his head for a moment, he tried to dispel that feeling of vertigo and instead see where they had landed. It was a small helipad built right into Stark Tower. The wind was trying to grab at Steve’s clothes without much avail – there was not much to hold on to with the suit being like a second skin. Natasha’s braid on the other hand was being torn this way and that, but she either did not notice (which Steve thought was not possible) or she simply did not care at all. Clint was standing at the edge, arms spread wide and face turned back to them with an excited grin. “Look, Tasha, look. Leap of faith. Damn, I’ve wanted to do that for years now.”

“I’m not jumping after you if you actually fall down,” Natasha told him, but her lips were curled up in a smile as she turned to Steve. “Where’d you leave Bucky and Tony?”

Steve opened his mouth and like a fish on land nothing came out.

“You forgot your shield, Cap.” Tony unceremoniously pressed the shield into Steve’s hands with maybe a bit more force than was strictly necessary. The only reason Steve did not let it slip and fall was reflexes. “I won’t carry this huge Frisbee for you everywhere so don’t leave it again.”

Steve was looking back over his shoulder where Bucky was slowly following Tony. Their eyes met briefly and it sent Steve’s thoughts spiraling again, his heart beating double-time. His hands started to sweat and some ridiculous apology was trying to push its way up, but Bucky kept silent. He looked away and came to a stop next to Natasha.

“So, seems like Loki’s not here. Shouldn’t there be some kind of villain monologue waiting for us or something?” Clint asked into the awkward silence, huddling closer to the protective side of the skyscraper.

“You watch too many movies, Clint.”

Natasha’s only answer was Clint sticking his tongue out, which she did not even deign with a reply.

Jane craned her neck to the side. “I think we should start up there.”

All heads looked up. There was some contraption up on the roof. It looked like an over-large antenna on steroids surrounded by huge blocks of probably more technology and processor power.

“How dare he defile my beautiful building like that? He really is a villain, no sense of style!” Tony’s outrage was mostly ignored, Jane suggested that maybe he could sic the architecture guild or something on Loki, maybe _that_ would solve the problem.

“Then all inside, children.” Tony clapped his hands, ignoring Jane’s comment completely. “What? One, I have no intention of staying out here any longer than necessary and two, I will not climb up the outside of this building when it’s more than reasonable to assume that there is a staircase that leads to the actual roof top.”

“Children, as if he’s that much older than us,” Jane groused, but followed Tony across the walkway to the terrace.

“I thought it’s your building, Stark.” Natasha winked at Tony as she walked past him while he was still spluttering and no doubt gearing up for a good come-back.

“I, for one, never claimed to be a grown-up,” muttered Clint.

Steve grinned, shook his head and followed Tony’s yelling about that he was the owner in a metaphysical sense, not physical, but that it still counted the same.

Inside was a spacious room that took up probably most of the floor. One side was re-modeled to function as some kind of bar with well-stocked and light shelves holding bottles of every color and size and a counter top marking its end. The dark floor was well-cleaned and actually complemented the furniture and fire place opposite the bar; and standing right in the middle of it all was Loki, brandishing the scepter.

“Why did you have to mention the villain monologue?” Natasha hissed at Clint and Steve could hear the quiet 'ow' Clint made when Natasha hit the back of his head with her hand.

“Jane, now would be the time to astrophysics away or whatever. You’re probably the only one who can disable this portal.”

Jane looked at them with big eyes. “I have no idea how and that’s not how actual astrophysics works.”

Before Tony could make any suggestions, Loki appeared right next to them. Steve blinked and checked again. He was definitely no longer standing on the other side of the glass wall.

“Ah, here you are – the Avengers, come to stop me.” A smile spread across Loki’s face as he slowly walked around them, drawing the circle tighter and tighter like a shark. He did not look frightened by their arrival, more like this had been the plan all along.

Steve gripped the shield harder and took a step to the front to be the first line of defense of their group. Natasha was next to him in a moment, tracking Loki’s every move, the tasers on her wrists humming menacingly. Bucky faced to the back of their group, watching out for anything that might try to take them by surprise – like Loki appearing out of thin air again.

Loki only laughed at their effort. “You may be Earth’s mightiest fighters, but you stand no chance against a god.” He spread his arms and in a shimmer of light his entire outfit changed from the simple dark fighting leathers that had almost looked normal to an intricate gold armor with a fur-lined dark green cape and a helmet with golden horns curling towards heaven.

Tony snickered. “God of the Village People maybe.”

Loki started walking around them, but within the blink of an eye they were surrounded by his likenesses. Steve kept his eyes fixed on the one version he thought must be the original. “You are already too late; there is nothing you can do to change the fate of this world anymore. Not even you, my dear brother – you and your hammer are useless here.”

“Awkward,” sing-songed Clint under his breath, while Jane scowled at Loki with such a dark look that Tony raised his hand to high-five her.

“We’ll find a way to stop you!” Jane snapped just before the terrace beneath their feet shuddered and the sky above them seemed to shake.

The contraption at the rooftop sent a blast of energy up in the air and bruised the sky a deep violet. The bruise spread until, with a loud crack, Loki’s machine tore a hole into the sky. Black oozed in, expanding and devouring the bright New York sky and clouds until it was as big as the skating rink on Time Square over Christmas.

Loki cackled, chaos incarnate and mayhem unleashed. He pointed the scepter upwards right at the portal. „That, my dear friends, was the sound of your doom.“

They all watched in horror as small dots emerged, growing larger and larger until they could make out the reptilian nature or their attackers. Wherever that portal lead to, the other side had been ready and was now flying down towards them, racing by Stark Tower, veering off into the New York streets, chasing people and blasting their alien guns at them.

“They have plasma guns-“

“_Not_ the time, Tony!” Jane snapped.

“Fuck! How good’s your suit?”

“Already on it, Cap.” Tony took a running start and jumped over the terrace, activating the wrist band as he went. He only fell for a moment before the suit enveloped him. He engaged his thrusters, shot upwards and blasted as many aliens out of the sky as he could.

“Too many and they have plasma guns. I’m still bitter about this by the way. Get down there, Cap.” Tony’s voice cracked over their new comm lines.

Steve turned around to give the order, but Clint and Natasha were already starting their plane back up. Loki (back to one person now) was not even putting up a fight. He watched them with evil delight as they scrambled for something do.

Steve knew he had to get down there, save lives (even virtual ones), but his feet were glued to the ground. No matter how loud those alien cruisers roared past them and how many clouds of smoke and ash the explosions down below sent heavenwards, he was rooted to the spot, unable to-

“Go, Stevie. I got her back up here.”

His gut clenched and unclenched at the same time. He managed a tight smile and was just about to turn around, when Bucky grabbed his arm. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?“

Steve could feel that old, familiar smile tugging at his lips. “How could I, you’re taking all the stupid with you.”

With Bucky’s huffing laughter still an echo in his hears, Steve sprinted off towards Natasha and Clint. “Any update, Tony?”

“Not really. Jarvis tells me these are Chitauri, whatever you want to make of that. Some sort of alien race, but that much we already figured out. SHIELD does not know how, but it seems Loki has some kind of deal with them – best case, he rules the word and they can stay here.” The whine of Tony’s blasters and a loud explosion as he hit one of their cruisers followed his words. “I can’t stop them from actually coming through the portal. Jane, you need to find a way to close it. And better do it fast – these things are like cockroaches, flying cockroaches with super technology.”

“On it.”

Steve wanted to tell Bucky to look out for her, but he kept his mouth shut and swallowed the words back. Jane was more than capable of looking out for herself and Bucky was smart enough to cover her anyway. Instead, Steve turned to Clint and Natasha, both already sitting in the plane’s cockpit.

“Alright, get us up and flying.”

“Roger that.” Clint threw a quick salute his way, while Natasha was already flipping switches and hitting buttons. The plane hummed beneath them and just as the door clicked shut Steve felt the pull of gravity through the metal beneath his feet as the plane rose up in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, technically the portal is powered by the Tesseract in actual movie. But since this is a game and not the most important detail everyone has to deal with right now, the portal was activated by Loki's scepter and some other means for the sake of this story.


	24. Avengers Assemble III

**Chapter 18**

“You think he’s just gonna let us just walk up there?” Bucky asked in a soft murmur, his eyes and rifle trained on Loki. He did not know how much good the rifle would do, but he felt better for actually having it in his hands.

“Don’t know. He said we could not stop it, so- Maybe?”

Jane took a hesitant step forward and Bucky tensed.

Loki turned his attention back from the chaos unfolding below and looked at them. He seemed not one bit bothered, which made every alarm bell in Bucky’s head go off. He hated those kinds of people. They were too smooth to actually be caught red-handed; they had a fail save for almost every eventuality. And this guy; he looked normal, business-smooth and almost aristocratic, but when he smiled that manic grin with teeth bared, Bucky was certain that this guy had looked into the abyss for too long and had not come back up entirely himself again.

_Almost every eventuality_, he reminded himself, mind racing.

“It’s too late, brother,” Loki said, arms spread wide and sauntering over to them. “Oh, don’t look at me like that – father has done things worse than this and yet people seem to thank him for it. They build halls for what he has done for them; they have forgotten the blood-drenched past Odin brought with him to their doorsteps only to be called hero once he could write an account of how things went and slowly the people started to forget the precise circumstances of Asgard bringing them into the fold. _This_ is nothing compared to all those oh so glorious conquests of Odin, brother! These people are wasting their potential and I can bring them to glory!”

“I have an idea,” Jane whispered.

Bucky wanted to ask what it was, but she was already lifting her hands in a placating manner and walked closer to Loki. He wanted to jerk her back, but he trusted her. He had seen her fight in the hangar – if Loki did anything stupid, she still had her hammer hanging from her hip.

“Loki … brother, listen. Father would not want this.”

“Of course not!” Loki spat, rage a wild beast in his words. He jerked his hands around him. “How the nine realms would talk if he entrusted _me_ with anything too important. I was always his spy, his trickster, his last resort when everyone else had run out of ideas. But no more, brother. The old man’s days are over and let him see what will happen to Asgard once he finally has to see me as your equal.”

Bucky’s hand twitched on his rifle. Jane did not seem to feel any more comfortable, but she kept her voice low and welcoming. “We can still end this, Loki. Close the portal and stop this senseless murdering. Those are people down there.”

“Aren’t Frostgiants any less people? Tell me, _brother_, when Odin defeated them so devastatingly and took me with him, _stole me_, to raise as his son, did anyone think that they were just people too? When you snuck out of Asgard to Jotunheim to proof your worth to father, did you not just do the same thing as he did, as I am doing here now? And now here you are, stepping in to protect these humans?”

“I- I changed. And I regret what I did in Jotunheim. Yes, people can be evil, they may do terrible things, but that does not mean we have to hold all accountable for the deeds of a few, no matter where they come from. There needs to be justice in punishment. I will make sure there will be justice for you back home – and for father.” Jane’s voice slipped an octave higher; it was still strange to her to pretend to be this character, to be some sort of god. “Let’s bring a new time to the nine realms, brother. You and me, together – you don’t have to do this.”

She was standing close enough to Loki that Bucky had no clear shot. He cursed that she was blocking most of the other man’s body. Because of that Bucky did not see the wicked, sharp knife Loki rammed into Jane’s gut. He only heard her surprised grunt of pain and Loki hissing something before he ran to the side of the terrace and jumped off.

Bucky ran after him, leaning over the railing, just in time to see him land on one of those Chitauri cruisers and wave his scepter at him with an evil grin.

“Fucking shit.” Jane was holding her side, blood trickling between her fingers and the links of her chainmail, soaking into her clothes beneath.

Bucky gave up on Loki for the moment, there was nothing he could do to actually catch him. Right now, Jane was his priority. Gently he lifted her hand to take a look at the cut. It was not too big or too deep, but it would hurt like hell. He said as much to Jane, who managed a weak flicker of a smile. “Next time we should shoot first, ask questions later, shouldn’t we?”

“You gave him a choice,” Bucky answered honestly. “That was the least we can do. If no one ever gave anybody a choice, then where would we be? Who knew – it might have worked.”

Jane huffed a laugh, strangled and a bit sad, but still a laugh, then winced. There was an explosion from below again. Too many of them were going off at the moment, the ensuing sound of shattering glass and crumbling of solid concrete wrapped around blaring sirens of police cars and fire trucks until it was all just one big wall of noise.

“I don’t have shit to fix you back up-“

“It’s fine. I’m a god, remember?”

Bucky shook his head. How did he always end up with people who thought they had to suffer through their pain? “Yeah, but you still feel pain.”

Jane conceded his point by slightly inclining her head. She looked back up to the machine on the rooftop that still poured a steady stream of energy into the sky. “I need to get up there. There has to be some way to turn it off.”

Nodding, Bucky swung his rifle back around his shoulder. When he looked back up into the sky to check for any alien who might have the bright idea of sneaking up on then, he could only stare.

The portal was crackling with energy and the flood of Chitauri had stopped for the moment. The brief surge of relief was shock-frosted in Bucky’s chest and spread in ice cold spider webs of dread through his body. Blood drained his face as a black mass slowly blocked out the twinkle of foreign stars and lights on the other side of the portal. The mass pushed and broiled, growing larger and larger. And then the monster broke through.

Bucky had never seen anything like it. Well, maybe on TV – he had seen Pacific Rim after all, at some point. But never in real life had he seen anything this huge. Never had he thought he would see this with his own two eyes. And it was terrifying.

The monster looked like a reptile with a narrow, leathery face, fins on both sides of its giant streamlined body that was covered in thick, shifting plates of armor and natural scales. It screamed its rage down onto the city spread below it, like some toy version it would run rampant through any second.

“No.” Jane’s breath left her as if someone had punched her in the gut. She looked on, eyes wide and hand shaking

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the tremors to subside. This was not real, this was a game. Just a game. Just a game with a huge alien that looked like a war-bred, floating dinosaur.

_Just a game, _he repeated, trembling. It felt so real, so damn real.

A stream of curses cluttered their comms, as Tony saw the monster in the sky too.

Bucky was terrified of what he would do next, although there was no other choice. There was only one place he needed to be right now. His heart screamed to be down there, down next to _Steve _who had told him-

Steve was down there – that was reason enough.

“Can you manage the portal on your own?”

Jane visibly shook herself. With one hand she gripped her hammer and tiny bolts of lightning raced and jumped between her fingers and the handle. “I’m good here. Go.”

It was as good as an order. Still, Bucky made his feet stand still. He looked up at Jane, making sure she really meant it. _Steve is down there_, his mind screamed, but … If he would help him more by helping Jane close the portal, he could stay.

“Really. Go. I have this.” She patted the hammer. “Was quite handy on that ship. It should help to keep them at bay long enough to turn the portal off.”

With a jerky nod Bucky set one foot in front of the other. Within two steps, he was sprinting into the skyscraper, skidding around a corner and thundering down the stairs.

# #

They were much slower than Tony in his flying suit, but that did not mean they were useless. Natasha had control over their guns while Clint piloted them through the concrete and glass ravines that were New York this high up in the air.

Steve burned with the need to do something. Right now, however, he was simply hanging on for dear life, fingers dug into one of the lines of the plane, feet braced apart to absorb all those sudden manoeuvres and not fall face first into the cockpit.

Their comm lines were quiet for now – he could hear the occasional whine of Tony’s blasters; Bucky and Jane’s line was silent. He told himself that it was a good sign. They were making progress. They were not in trouble.

“Fuck!” Clint jerked the plane to the right, but it was already too late.

Steve slid a few inches before he could readjust his handhold, making the line groan with how suddenly it had to support his entire weight. It was just in time. An explosion rocked them even further to the side, threatening to send them spiraling down uncontrollably.

“Clint!”

“On it, Cap. On it!”

Alarms blared at them. The needles on the dashboard were going crazy, red lights flickered everywhere. Natasha bit her lower lip and kept firing their guns, while Clint kept up a steady stream of curses but so far they had not crashed.

“Get us down in front of Grand Central,” Steve yelled over the din in the cockpit. He could hear Loki’s voice over one of the comm lines, but it was too loud inside their burning plane to pick up any actual words.

“Park Avenue should be big enough for this plane,” he continued. And there would be no traffic now that they would need to be afraid off. All the while he hoped, pleaded, that whoever was engaging Loki was all right.

Clint grunted his agreement and wrestled the plane to the left, toward Grand Central. It fought him every inch of the way. Everything around them started to shake, smoke now coiling in soft tendrils towards them from the back.

With a last curse Clint shoved the plane to the left and the ground rushed up to meet them.


	25. Avengers Assemble IV

**Chapter 19**

Steve stumbled out of the burning wreck of the plane just in time to see the portal spit out an enormous alien that looked like a space turtle (if you squinted and thought that a turtle shell was not round-ish but pulled into a long sandwich of overlapping scales). His ears buzzed, a high, consistent beeping that would not let up even as he shook his head, intermixed with Tony swearing a blue streak up and down the East River. Between that noise and the clamor around them, Steve heard enough to figure out that Tony had somehow roped in Jarvis in finding a weak spot for this new monster.

Natasha and Clint both looked a bit dazed as they clambered out of the battered cockpit supporting each other, but they seemed unharmed otherwise. Maybe a bit singed at the edges, but they waved Steve off when he asked them if they were all right.

The aliens had not noticed them yet. How, Steve had no idea, but he was glad to have some time to look down Park Avenue and the street below them. New York should never look like this, he thought, high-strung with adrenaline. Consciously, he knew that this was just a game, but it all looked too real – he had been here just the other day! Where there had been the pissed off shout of a cyclist or the endless honking of a cab or the maddening tangle of countless languages pouring all over, it was screams and shouts now, crumbling concrete and shrieking steel.

Natasha walked past him, pistols in both sooth-flecked hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Steve nodded, still half dazed, but body already moving. He grabbed the strap of his shield harder, the leather protesting, and made it all of three steps before the first aliens realized that they were there.

A war-cry like shriek rose up into the air from one of their cruisers and then it was like a switch had been flipped inside Steve. His feet were moving – one arm blocked punches, the other doled them out. A distant part of him noted that these aliens were almost a head taller and covered in some strengthened exoskeleton or strange metallic armor. The biggest part of him pushed those musings to the side and kept on fighting. The Chitauri went down just like normal humans when hit hard enough.

It all too soon became a blur around him. The glint of metal, the leathery brush of alien skin against his, cries both from this world and beyond ringing in his ears, the impacts on his shield vibrating into the tips of his fingers. Occasionally, he saw a streak of red from where Natasha was. She twisted and spun, taking down any opponent in her path like a ballerina gone feral. By some unspoken agreement, they kept the Chitauri away from Clint so he could pick off the ones flying at them with his bow.

Their rhythm was interrupted when Steve heard footsteps. They ran straight at him, so he spun around, shield up high to block any potential attack. Just from the corner of his eye he saw Bucky’s bright blue jacket and with teeth-gritting effort Steve managed to jerk his arm up some more, re-directing the punch with his shield that had enough _bamf_ to break a neck (he knew, he had heard the bones snap of that one Chitauri).

He didn’t have enough breath to say anything when Bucky skidded to a halt. Instead, he swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and could not stop the stupid smile tugging at his lips. His heart tripped for a second, being more scared of Bucky’s eventual answer to his confession on the plane than the actual aliens around them, but then Bucky grinned right back, just as feral, all teeth and dust.

Their comms buzzed.

“Guys, they are sending in another one of those flying dinosaur turtles!”

Steve looked up and saw the first shadow of something big on the other side of the portal. “Shit.”

“Thunder!” Steve blinked at Bucky, almost getting punched in the face by another alien that went down with an arrow to its side and was finished off by Bucky’s rifle. “Get Jane to fry this thing with her lightning! Jane you hear me?”

Jane’s confirmation came through the comms loud and clear. Within seconds the entire air started to crackle. The fine hairs on Steve’s arms were standing up and tingling. It was just like those sweltering summer days right before a huge thunder-storm would unleash its fury upon Brooklyn. He could not help but stare as dark clouds rolled in. They had read each other’s character strengths, but to actually see those storm clouds accumulating because Jane was- It was almost impossible to believe.

Jane was just a spot of bright red and silver-blue chain mail high up on the roof of a nearby building. How she had gotten there in the first place, Steve had not the slightest idea and probably didn’t even want to know. The building was flashing with snakes of incandescent lightning wrapping around it, all congregating to Jane’s hammer, impatient to be unleashed.

Said hammer was pointed up at the portal, spitting lightning; with a shout Jane unleashed the coiled power of it as the alien’s head emerged from the portal. Unerringly, the lightning found its mark and the beast screamed and trashed.

Half a minute later, the lightning stopped. The alien turtle dropped from the portal, seemingly lifeless and burn marks scarring half of its unprotected face.

A shout formed halfway in Steve’s throat. This thing was about to crush them! It would bury them and a quarter of Grand Central and the adjacent streets underneath it. His scream had only evolved to a choked noise warbling form his throat as the alien turtle laboriously flapped its fins and slowly, so slowly, lifted its heavy body upwards again. The Chitauri cheered.

“Nice try, Jane. These things are hard to kill, hardly any weak spots because of their armor; even the Terminator would have his trouble with them. I wonder … Cap, keep them busy down here, I have another theory.”

“On it,” Steve panted. The others around him nodded their agreement. That was the least they could do.

Steve looked around then, there were aliens everywhere, like crazy ants after their ant hill had been destroyed; people still panicked on the street, chased by other Chitauri and their own fear. He heard the screeching protest of metal on concrete and ran to the edge of their position up on Park Avenue Viaduct to look down on 42nd. Bucky materialized next to him. “Why is there a fucking bus full of people down there?!”

Steve ground his teeth, his free hand crumbling the railing with how hard he was gripping the metal. “Why are they still there?”

He looked back at Natasha and Clint – the aliens had let up some, but both still had their hands full, more or less literally in Nat’s case. His eyes met Bucky’s. “You think you can hold them off for a bit?” Steve asked, strapping his shield back on his shoulders.

“Captain, it will be my pleasure.” Clint saluted him with a grin and shot an arrow without even looking – he hit the Chitauri dead in the chest.

Natasha shared a glance with Bucky, some silent uni class mate communication going on between them, and nodded. She ejected the magazine of one of her guns and put a new one in with frightening precision that made Steve briefly wonder if she had ever done this before or if that was her character taking over. Clint had another arrow nocked in his bow, eyes tracking the aliens around them.

“Just like back in Topeka, don’t you think?” Natasha’s grin was a wild thing and Steve could only pity anybody who would ever dare oppose her.

“You and I remember Topeka very differently.”

Steve saluted them and vaulted himself over the edge of the viaduct. He could almost hear Bucky rolling his eyes. His feet hit the ground of 42nd and a second _thump_ of another pair of boots followed only seconds later. He suppressed the grin and his heart soared a bit in his chest.

“Thank fuck,” Steve breathed when he saw the police officer next to the bus.

“Behind you!” Bucky’s warning came just in time. Blindly and like in so many back alley fights in the past, Steve spun to his side. He heard the shot of a rifle, but had no time to check as another Chitauri advanced, intent on getting to the bus.

Steve would rather die than let that happen. He flicked his wrist and let the shield fly, knocking the Chitauri out cold and hitting his fellow alien soldier with the rebound. The shield bounced back into his hand obligingly and Steve stared at it for a second in silent confusion before he remembered what they were here for.

He clambered on top of the bus to get to its windows; Bucky was already up there, lifting a little girl up with her legs still dangling in the inside of the bus. “Two more,” he told Steve.

Bucky seemed to have this under control, so Steve slipped down the other side of the bus. He landed lightly on his feet just a few feet from where the police car was still idling. There were still too many people out on the streets and if Tony’s updates on the Chitauri movements were correct, then it would not take too long for them to be overrun.

“You need men in those buildings, there are people inside and they are going to be running right into the line of fire. You take them to the basements, or through the subway. You keep them off the streets. I need a perimeter as far back as 39th.”

He was not expecting them to jump to this order. Outright refusal, on the other hand, was also something he did not think these people would do given the current circumstances. “Why should we take orders from you?”

Steve heard the whine of the alien weapon before Bucky shouted a warning, still on top of the bus. In one smooth motion, Steve spun around and lifted his shield in the same movement. He gripped the leather strap hard as the recoil shoved him back an inch. “Because I’m Captain fucking America,” he gritted out between his teeth; his muscles burned, his arm ached, but he did not move any further back. The blast was reflected off his shield directly into the attacking alien, but he gave it no time to recover. He sprinted the few steps separating them and knocked the alien out with a few precise punches; Bucky shot it for good measure afterwards.

Slightly out of breach, dust setting around him, Steve straightened to his full height again. He pushed some of his hair out of his face (it probably only left more dust and grime in his hair, but at least it was out of his eyes) and turned back around to the police.

Scrambling back on his feet, the police officer stared at him, the golden hero who had just saved him, almost larger than life, a Renaissance painting rendered in the grit of New York and the 21st century. His colleague was not much better off, but he at least had the presence of mind to grab one of their walkie-talkies and press its side. Steve’s order was repeated to any officer still listening in on that channel.

Steve nodded in their direction as they scrambled off. Rotating his arm to get rid of the ache starting deep beneath his shoulder blade, he turned around to- Bucky was standing on the street again, right next to the roof of the capsized bus, staring at him with a slack-jawed expression that made Steve’s stomach drop a bit in excitement.

A blush crept up his neck and he barely managed to not scratch his neck. The urge to blurt out the first dumb thing on his mind was so overwhelming he had to bite his lip to quell it. Because with his luck, it would be another embarrassing confession and he did not want to make Bucky feel like there was only one answer in this matter. “Guess those alley fights finally paid off.”

“Steve-“

A black _whoosh_ rushed down a few blocks away from them. Before fear of which one of their friends had lost a life in this game could set in, the comms were already crackling to life. “Cap. Cap! You there? Doesn’t matter, listen up everyone: turns out these space turtles are not as armored from the inside. Jonah and the wale and all that.”

Steve’s brain felt like it was running into a brick wall with that change in topic. He did not dare even speculate on that hitch in Bucky’s voice he thought he had heard only a second before; it would most likely not end well. He grabbed his thoughts in both hands and dragged them screaming into the here and now. “What?”

“Never mind. Bad news is I can’t do that again. The suit got clogged up and … well, let’s say hydraulics and alien goo don’t go too well together and being shot with these weird alien guns is _not_ an experience I will ever want to repeat again. Oh, and I have the attention of another one of those turtles and I’m heading your way. It may be super pissed.”

“Fuck.” Bucky’s soft swearing got Steve’s brain actually back on track even though his heart was still pounding from that flicker he thought he’d seen.

“Come on.” Steve did not really take the time to look back to check if Bucky was following him. Pounding steps confirmed it anyway a few moments later. He asked the others for a quick confirmation that they were okay and had not lost any lives. Their okays lifted some of the weight on Steve’s shoulders.

Back on the Viaduct, he saw Natasha and Clint fighting back to back in a ring of fallen Chitauri around them. Clint’s hair was a mess and the arm holding his bow was covered in scratches and some trickling blood while Natasha’s braid had not a hair out of place, but her suit was covered in dust.

“We’re getting company.”

And right on time Tony shot past the corner all gold and red (if a bit less bright now), followed by an angry alien turtle, bellowing its rage and paying no mind to all the corners of various buildings it crumbled to dust with its fins.

Steve swallowed. “I’m open for any suggestions?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the man with a plan?” Tony landed next to him, running for a few steps. The golden face plate lifted up and revealed dark, sweaty hear sticking to his forehead and a grim look on his face.

To Steve that expression seemed unnatural. Even knowing Tony better for this one day, he knew that it could not bode well if even the most talkative, outwardly happy member of the gang looked like that.

“Jarvis says to hit the underbelly.”

The monster was almost upon them, they could already feel the blast of foul air preceding it. Chitauri soldiers rappelled down from its armored back and landed with a thud on the concrete. Some turned right around and sprinted down 42nd or jumped down the viaduct to destroy buildings and spread more terror. Others stood their ground, weapons raised, but waiting.

The blasters in Tony’s hands whined. Clint’s bow groaned as he pulled the string back up to his cheek. Steve spread his feet, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet and tensing the muscles in his arm, ready to throw his shield as hard as he could.

The alien bellowed at them and both Tony and Clint shot at it. Natasha added one entire magazine of her Glock, but the space turtle seemed unimpressed. It slowed down a bit and seemed even angrier than before, but it just did not stop its approach.

“Fuck this. Distract it.”

“Bucky-“ Steve only dared glace back at his best friend for a second – there was still a huge flying alien turtle roaring towards them – before he faced the Chitauri again.

Tony kept shooting his blasters, cracking up the energy half-way through, which only resulted in the smell of burnt flesh. Clint picked a special arrow and sent it off with a grim kiss. It actually made a dent in the plated armor of the thing.

The alien was directly above them now and Steve threw his shield against its vulnerable underside.

“Nothing you can punch your way through, huh?”

Steve pressed his lips together and swallowed his words back down.

“On second thought, maybe we should just unleash you on this thing like you went after Rumlow.”

“Rumlow half killed him.” Steve spun around to snap his usual retort at Bucky, but the words died on his lips when he saw what his best friend was carrying. “_That_ should take care of this beast.”

Bucky hefted a huge cannon-like gun on his shoulders, face set in grim determination and that look that shouted '_fuck you_', and took aim.

Steve did not really know anything about guns, but this one looked- It looked a lot like a rocket launcher. _Where the hell …_

The rocket exploded out of the gun and flew right into the alien’s wide-open jaws. A beat of silence followed before a muffled _boom_ rattled the alien’s skull and tore it apart from the inside out. The alien resisted for one last moment, fins still flapping to keep it aloft, but ultimately its body caught up with the fact that the explosion had killed it. The huge beast crashed to the street. Another second of ear-splitting silence passed before the gathered Chitauri attacked with a roar.


	26. Avengers Assemble V

**Chapter 20**

“Where. The hell. Did you get. That rocket launcher from?” Tony panted with soot staining his face and his suit of armor duller and a bit dented when the alien attack finally let off for more than a moment.

Bucky, sweaty and panting as well, just grinned. It made Steve’s head dizzy to see that razor-sharp edge and flash of white teeth. “Found it.”

“_Found-_“ Tony squeaked with comically wide eyes. Steve was afraid he might burst a vessel or even have an aneurysm.

“I would accuse you of cheating in this game,” Tony continued with a finger pointed at Bucky, “but you know … If you knew how to rig this game, we’d probably be out of here by now and you would rub it under my nose that you found a way out.”

“That rubbing bit would be you, Tony. Don’t project your manners onto others.”

“Guys,” Jane’s voice came over the comms and the tone of her voice managed to shut up Tony immediately and make him almost look concerned. “Good news – I figured out how to close the portal.”

“Please tell me the bad news is something like getting married to the princess of these aliens for some weird reason,” Clint groaned.

“That- No, sorry. No.”

“Spit it out, science bro. We‘re big boys” – A quick look to Natasha who waved at Tony with that evil grin – “Nat counts as a big boy too.”

A sigh over the comms. “Well, I can’t be a hundred per cent sure, but it seems we need the scepter to close it. Nothing else will penetrate the protective energy field around its core. Something about same energy signatures – nothing else matches it as far as I can tell, so I strongly believe that the only thing that can actually penetrate this energy field and close the portal down is the scepter.”

“I know I’m going to regret asking this, but does Loki still have the scepter?” Steve sighed. If the game so far was any indication of how this would go, it could not be very straight forward and easy.

“Yep.” Everyone looked at Bucky and it only took one second for Tony to snap at Jane before she confirmed this over comms.

“Great. Just great. So we are now on some weird goose chase with a maniacal god and aliens. Fine, fine, we can manage that.”

“Has anyone actually got eyes on Loki?”

“J, question for you. Where’s our friend Loki? What?” Tony shrugged. “It’s much easier to get Jarvis to do whatever he’s doing and hack the cameras than actually physically look for Loki. You can thank me later for saving us time.”

“According to the homing beacon, the scepter is somewhere south of the Empire State Building.”

“Park Avenue, corner 33rd, heading this way,” Tony supplied. “Thanks J.”

“Okay, the best would be if we – _Tony_!” Steve did not even have the chance to formulate any plan of attack. Tony had walked over to the side of the viaduct, peered down at 42nd and then grabbed Clint by the scruff of his jacket and thrown him over the railing.

From the corner of his eye Steve saw how Bucky put his hand on Natasha’s arm. She lowered the gun she had trained on Tony, if only reluctantly. “Shooting him won’t help,” Steve thought he heard Bucky murmur to her.

“But it would make me feel better.”

Steve could only agree, but kept that particular sentiment to himself. He was already at Tony’s side, peering down at the circle of Chitauri eyeing Clint, trying to keep that spike of anger in check.

“Just pretend you’re still brainwashed!” Tony shouted down. Clint flipped him off without looking up, his attention and arrow trained on the Chitauri around him. None of them had dared to attack yet, but murmurs were running back and forth between them, tension rising.

“Nope, you’re not.” Tony grabbed Natasha’s hand when she tried to vault herself over the railing to join Clint.

She actually hissed at Tony and he stepped back. Sometimes he did value his life. “Look, Red, all part of the plan. Your Robin Hood was one of Loki’s people, right? So maybe they don’t know he’s switched teams. He can just ask for the scepter nicely and everyone is happy.”

Bucky smacked the back of Tony’s head and only glared at the outraged complaint of the other man. “You threw him to the wolves.”

“Nah. He can handle – Oh, okay, maybe …”

The whispering of the Chitauri’s had stopped and the split second of silence that followed was even eerier. It made the tiny hairs on Steve’s neck stand up. He tensed his muscles to jump down and saw Natasha do the same.

Clint had his bow up and arrows were flying at the aliens with a speed that should be humanly impossible. He dodged the first few blows that came his way, but he was in an ever shrinking circle and hopelessly outnumbered. Natasha was halfway over the railing when one of the guns hit Clint in the back and he crumpled to the ground.

“Sorry?”

Natasha spun on her heel and leaned right into Tony’s face. He had the good sense to flinch away for her, but she just pushed one step further into his space. Steve winced in sympathy even as his blood boiled at what Tony had done. He’d probably be the one tearing the engineer a new one if Natasha had not beaten him to it. And if he was being honest with himself, the death-glare she leveled at Tony without even saying one word was probably way more effective than a broken nose would be.

“If I were you, I would now jump at every shadow you see. Pissing of a Russian is never a good idea,” Bucky supplied helpfully with his own glare leveled at Tony, who was starting to look pained at the angle he was leaning away from Natasha.

The sky growled and the tornado sound that heralded one of them being thrown down into the game again roared to life for a second. Clint was standing next to them, swaying a bit but as pissed off as a mad hippo and already gunning for Tony.

“Really?” He shoved Tony’s chest. “That was your plan?! Great plan – now I have only one life left and where did it get us? Huh?”

“I’m-“

“No you’re not. You’re fucking not.” Clint clenched his jaw and turned away, his hands gripping his bow so hard Steve heard the polymer groan in agony.

“Guys!” Jane’s voice crackled over the comms. “I know this is not the best of times, but Loki is almost at Grand Central.”

“We need the scepter and he’s coming to us on a silver plate. Come on, we can’t let him get away because of some squabble. Friends again?”

Natasha and Clint both leveled Tony with a dark look that made even Steve take a step back. Yeah, no. He had no intention of getting into the middle of that squabble, but he had to admit Tony was right. “ETA, Jane?”

“Any second now.”

“What?” Steve raised an eyebrow as Natasha turned to him with an expectant look, green eyes narrowed in concentration and eyes darting back and forth between him and the street around him.

“Give me a lift.”

“What?”

“A lift. With your shield.” Natasha was backing away from them, trying to get a clear path straight at Steve. “I’ll get that scepter and bring it to Jane.”

There was not enough time to come up with a better plan and frankly, the last few seconds had made Steve realize that he should not cross Natasha. If she set her mind to getting them the scepter, they would have it within ten minutes max.

He backed up to the railing, braced his feet as securely as he could and held his shield at mid-thigh level – easy enough for Natasha to jump on and the perfect angle to catapult it up into the air with her on it.

Bucky watched them from the side, eyes trained on Steve as Natasha started running with large strides, gaining momentum, and then jumped. The nearing Chitauri cruiser was a low whine in Steve’s ears but he did not dare turn around. He had no time to.

In one smooth motion, Steve absorbed some of the impact, bending his knees and then putting all of his strength into his arms as he lifted the shield and Natasha up.

The air current of the Chitauri cruiser ruffled his hair, the slight disturbance of those currents coiling around him as Natasha landed on the cruiser as effortlessly as if it were solid ground. The co-pilot fell down onto their street within seconds and then Natasha was off, chasing after Loki in a race for the scepter.

“I’m in deep shit.”

Clint shot Tony a '_No, really?_' look, but Steve was caught up by the slight smile etching itself into Bucky’s cheeks and the fact that his best friend had that look in his eyes. He suppressed a groan and instead slightly bent his knees again and held the shield in just the same position as before. Bucky grinned at him then, all teeth and adrenaline, and started running.

This time Steve braced himself even more. Sure it had worked with Natasha, but Bucky was heavier (and he had even fewer intentions of fucking it up this time). He could hear another cruiser approaching, it was almost too close already.

Their timing might be off by a few seconds. What if Bucky-

Heavy boots pushed his shield down and Steve grunted with effort. His arms trembled as he raised the shield and catapulted Bucky into the air. His breath caught in his chest as he looked up, silently praying that they had not been too late. “Jerk!”

Bucky grinned down at him like a complete lunatic for a split second before he was whisked away on his cruiser.

“Nat, you have back-up,” Steve informed her over the comms.

“Does anyone else think those things sound like these pod racers from Star Wars?”

“Really, Clint. I really liked you, but Star Wars?!“

“Would not have noticed that you like me with you throwing me to the Chitauri.”

Steve ground the shield into the concrete at his feet and rested his hands on its edge. “Alright, listen up, until Jane can close that portal, our priority is containment. Natasha and Bucky are after Loki so we should have the scepter soon. Clint, I want you up on that roof, eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays. Tony, you got the perimeter. Anything that gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or turn it to ash.”

“So that’s-“

„Yup.“ Tony popped the _p_ like bubble gum while Clint looked a little star-struck. “Smoldering intensity right fucking there. The lighting makes him look more majestic, avert your eyes or you might be blinded.”

“That thing should be illegal,” Tony muttered, just as Steve could hear Natasha cackle over the comm lines.


	27. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the last Interlude of the story that will bring us to almost the point in time where this story started.  
Which also means, next Saturday will bring the last chapter block.  
For now, I hope you brought tissues...

**INTERLUDE**

Sick of waiting around yet again and just running a track into their living room floor, Steve set up his canvas. The paints followed – he needed the mad splash of color and the fact that the brushes yielded more right now than the comfort that came with his pieces of charcoal.

Next was the music. He scrolled through his options. Nothing really in there that suited his current mood until he hit the live concerts. _That one. _With a small smile, he clicked on it and the intro started playing.

Picking up the broadest of his brushes, he started with the background. It would not take long for him to get too carried away to care. He could already feel it roiling right beneath his skin. There was no plan for this painting, he only wanted to get out of his head for a while and not _think_. Still, he played pretend and pre-selected his color palette carefully.

By the end of the first half of the concert Steve had painted himself into quite a rage. His temples ached from the force he ground his teeth with. His shoulders were too tense and would leave aches for days to come. His movements were too jerky.

He couldn’t stop himself. The lid of whatever he had used to keep this boiling mess down was off. No amount of 'Bucky is allowed to go out', 'He is a grown-up and knows what he’s doing' and 'Any girl would be lucky to have him – if he chose to stick around' could soothe them again. He hated all of these; especially the double sting of pain the last one caused.

He wanted. He shouldn’t. It was not fair; for no one. Especially when daydreaming about Peggy sometimes dissolved her features into another one’s with brown hair. Shorter. A bit more unruly. The lips a bit thinner and without lipstick but perpetually curled into a challenging smile. Eyes bright and blue. Features set in a scowl. The smell of oil and their detergent always lingering.

His brush strokes became harsher. Color being pressed down on canvas with deep groves of the individual brush hairs in their wake.

He couldn’t stand all those girls Bucky went out with. He couldn’t stand Bucky smelling like booze and cold cigarette smoke and perfume. He couldn’t stand that Bucky had not stopped that one morning after the Hockey game and he hated that he had not wanted him to stop. But most of all, he couldn’t stand that even while being with Peggy he wanted more; all those silly, soft touches, the tangle of legs on the sofa and in bed, simply holding hands and lacing their fingers whenever they felt like it, burying his face in Bucky’s chest and just breathe.

He _wanted_, and he hated Bucky for making him notice.

With a snarl and a bellow of all those things he kept bottled up, Steve sang along as the big-band-beat for the next song in the Wembley set started playing. His voice was too loud and all kinds of off, but god it felt good!

This was all going to end in a big horrible mess – he knew it with the sick feeling of a rock settling in his stomach. There was the right thing to do and it had hurt already when that realization had snuck up on him. But for the moment … for now he bled all this want and hate and Bucky and insufferable tangle of everything into this one fragment of a song, uncaring of the occasional tears running down his cheeks, unaware that Bucky had finally come home again and was watching him from the shadow of the hallway.

# #

Bucky planted his feet right in front of Steve, his brows drawn together and his arms folded across his chest. Nothing would move him form this spot, least of all Steve.

“Where are you going?” His voice was too harsh and sounded way more accusing than he had intended to.

“Out.” Steve sidestepped him easily and reached for their apartment door.

Bucky’s arm pressed down on the old wood – if he wanted to he could push and close the door completely, they both knew it, but Bucky had never gone that far, it had never been the point he had wanted to make, so Steve tried not hold it against him today.

“Out?” His voice was softer and he sounded less like a jealous boyfriend and more like a concerned best friend – barely.

The image of Steve shouting along to Queen in their living room haunted him even a day later. He wanted to hug Steve and tell him that everything was going to be okay – whatever it was; he would be here, be the shoulder Steve could lean on. But that wasn’t true, was it? How could he be on Steve’s side if there had been a fall out with Peggy? What would he do in _that_ case? He could not just tell Steve to make up with her, nor could he tell his best friend to just forget about her.

The fear of that possible answer kept Bucky’s concern all sealed up and his hands at his sides, balled up as fists.

“Yes, out. Dancing with Peggy if that is what you want to hear. Am I suddenly not allowed to go on dates with my girlfriend?” Steve’s voice carried a bitter edge he could not hide.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault – not at all. But at the moment it was so much easier to be angry when the other option was to just give up and walk through life like a zombie; playing pretend for the rest of his life was simply not the way he wanted to live.

All these girls Bucky went dancing with and Steve had never complained. It was okay. Bucky was handsome, especially those piercing blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing. And that daredevil of a smile …

Steve could sympathize with all those girls all too well; even envied them that Bucky took them dancing – but sometimes … Sometimes at night when Bucky was out alone, especially recently, all Steve wanted to do was smash things, his breathing heavy with something that had nothing to do with his asthma. For a while, he had told himself it was because he knew that his best friend would probably not call them again; that he was upset on their behalf. But that lie was losing its viability.

Bucky looked him over one last time, his brows still set in a frown before he let go of the door and stepped back.

“Don’t wait up for me. It might get late.” Steve’s chest felt hollow as he echoed the words Bucky usually threw his way with a lopsided smile before he went out.

# #

Steve’s eyes lit up when he saw her and he felt his lips curl up into a genuine smile, but his posture was too rigid. He tried too hard to be relaxed, not to think.

“Is something the matter, Steve?” Peggy asked, all concern and the busy crowd around them forgotten.

Steve just smiled. Now was not the time. He had promised to take her dancing and he would not let that strange, heavy feeling in his chest stop him. “Don’t worry. Just some … stuff. It’s not important right now.”

Peggy looked at him a moment longer. She would leave it be … for now. But Steve saw in her eyes that she knew that there was something he was not telling her.

In the end, her opportunity came after two beers and the better part of an hour spent dancing. Steve was still laughing and trying to catch his breath at her side. But every so often his gaze was unfocused, the smile sliding off his face and he looked at her like-

Even when he stood up on his toes and kissed her, it seemed more like he was not really here, his thoughts miles away.

She looked at him, her charming friend who stepped in for others even when he had no chance of winning. This man who was sweet and honest but also had a sharp mind, which many people did not realize. A man who would swallow his own worries to not burden others.

“Come.” Taking his free hand in hers, Peggy pulled him outside where the music was only a muted background noise and they could talk without shouting.

Not letting go of him, she sat down on a lower part of the small wall. Steve followed suit, breathing in the cool night air. “What is it, Steve? I know something is up.”

Steve opened his mouth as if to protest, thought better of it and closed it again. His hand moved on its own to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “It’s nothing.”

“Steven.” She would not let him get away that easily. He was hurting and she couldn’t stand by and watch. “Look at me, Steve. Come on. I’m worried about you.”

A sad smile crept on his lips, but he still did not say anything. He looked down at her hand, her fingers just as long and delicate as his; and laced their fingers again. “It’s just … it’s complicated, Peg.” A weary, heavy sigh.

A feather-light brush of fingertips across his jaw made Steve look back up.

“There is someone else, isn’t there?”

He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t lie to her. He _wouldn’t_ lie to her.

Although she tried to hide it, Steve saw how her lips trembled ever so slightly. And if there was one thing he would never do, it would be to allow Peggy to hurt. So he nodded haltingly.

“I like you, Peg. You’re amazing and I like you a lot, I do love you but …” Helplessly shrugging his shoulders, he tried to put what he felt into words and found them inadequate. He didn’t even understand what half of this tumble inside of him meant. He only knew that there were two people he could not live without. “He’s not interested; I should let it be, I know but- I can’t make myself.”

“He?”

Steve nodded again, not sure if his voice would betray him. Peggy smiled at him then, sad and soft, her lip still trembling and it broke his heart to be the one to have put that expression on her face.

Her hand brushed his unruly hair out of his face. “This someone else, it’s Bucky, isn’t it?”

Steve hated himself for falling in love with her and then being betrayed by _something_ inside of him that made his breath hitch worse than his asthma, something that just could not let go of his best friend although there was really no hope. It just wasn’t fair.

“Yes.” As the last letter hissed across his lips like an arctic blast, he pulled his hand away. Staring straight ahead at the dark pavement, he curled both hands into tight fists, rapidly blinking away the burning in his eyes. Again that horrible madness of shame-insecurity-want surged up inside him. Nevertheless, he tried to put it all in words – for Peggy. For her, he needed to find words.

“It- I … It’s not fair on you, Peg! I know it’s not. But you have to believe me, nothing ever happened!” His fingernails cut into his palms, leaving burning half-moons in their wake. He did not care. She had to believe him on that one, he would never …

“I can’t get rid of this _feeling_. And it seems …” He swallowed his next words because she did not need to know that. It would only hurt her more.

“I don’t know what to do,” he finally confessed, voice hoarse and helpless, looking back at her to see a few tears sliding down her face, crystalline and cold in the night around them.

“I believe you.” Her lower lip wobbled, but she caught it between her teeth. “You are not that type of man to do such a thing.”

“Peggy …” His voice was an anguished rasp and his hands uncurled without a thought. He wanted to hold her close, comfort her, but was frozen by the knowledge that he was the cause of her pain.

He couldn’t stand to see her like this – not Peggy, who was always like a solid rock amidst the roaring sea. She bowed to no one, would move for nothing but her own will.

His restraint crumbled and he pulled her to him then, his hands buried in the soft fabric of her shirt between her shoulder blades. She came haltingly, almost frozen stiff, but it was only a second before she stopped pretending and curled into his slim body as if he were twice the size.

Steve blinked back tears of his own, trying to find something to say and realizing that there was nothing he could say. There were no words that would make either of them hurt less. In the end, they were both holding the other, saying enough without words for the moment.

The truth was, no matter how hard he might try to deny it, his heart had already chosen and was waiting for his thick head to come to the same conclusion. Which it finally did, on a small stone wall in front of a cozy dance bar.

Steve did not want to live without either of them. But seeing Bucky drift away from him a bit more each day …? He shook his head. Losing a part of their friendship he had not even been aware of until a few weeks ago was slowly crushing him. So if faced with a choice, Steve had to answer that he simply could not live without Bucky. And that – It just was not fair on Peggy. Because even if Bucky never loved him back that way, Steve’s heart would always belong to him first.

He loved Peggy. God, there were no words for what she meant to him, but eventually she would always come second and that he could not do to her. She deserved someone who woke up and went to bed thinking about her. Someone who encouraged her brave, bold and uncompromising way of life and at the same time tucked her close and held her. Someone who was her best friend and her lover. And it wouldn’t be, couldn’t be him, especially now when he was trying to figure out a way to make things right with Bucky.

“I think we should go home.”

Steve looked up at those words and blinked the white handkerchief into focus Peggy was offering. He took it, blowing his nose and hastily rubbing wet tear marks from his cheeks with the back of his hand. A useless endeavor, as it turned out. Tears were still rolling down his cheeks silently.

“I’m sorry,” he said again for there were no words – nothing small or great, short or long, simple or complex to express anything of what he felt. For either of them. But Peggy knew him, she could read him. She might not see it now, but later when it was less painful, she would understand. He knew that.

For now, Peggy shook her head, looking down the street for a second, blinking hard and biting her lip. A taxi was coming ‘round the corner. “Thank you for … the dancing, I guess,” she said quietly, flagging down the yellow car at the same time.

Steve hopped down from the wall and rushed to open the door for her. He wanted to bring her home, see that she arrived safely. At the same time, he did not think that this would be a good idea right now.

Peggy seemed to come to the same conclusion. “I’ll be fine.”

“Text when you’re home? Please.” She nodded and with one hand on the door frame and a foot already in the taxi cabin, she leaned down and kissed him one last time.

“Goodnight Steven.”


	28. The Portal I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat, Bucky and Steve are doing everything to save as many civilians as they can and buy Jane, Tony and Clint more time. They finally seem to be getting the upper hand. That is until Tony is informed that a nuclear war head has been launched. ETA – 5 minutes.  
Now only a miracle can save them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is the last block of chapters.  
Buckle your seatbelts and let's go!

**Chapter 21**

Steve’s plan went as well as they could have hoped. Clint was perched on some roof, taking down as many of the Chitauri as his quiver would allow (which was conveniently self-refilling). Tony was constantly chatting on their comms, which was a bit annoying but every now and then he provided them with essential details. Natasha and Bucky were still chasing Loki, but they almost had him. He was constantly looking behind his back at the two lunatics commandeering the Chitauri like crazed monkeys sitting on the aliens’ backs. It was really frightening what these humans could be up to – and exactly the reason why they needed more guidance than just letting them do whatever they wanted.

“Clint, we’re passing you in a few turns.”

Natasha didn’t have to say anything else. Clint narrowed in on the avenue they would most likely be approaching and reserved a special arrow just for Loki. “Get him, Tasha.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

“On my mark.” Clint drew his arrow, breath barely escaping his lips. He could already her the cruisers getting louder.

“Next turn and you’ll see us.”

He did not have to acknowledge Natasha’s word, he could see Loki cut the corner around one building, still chased by Natasha and Bucky. Clint waited a heartbeat, two. His fingers trembled slightly, but his aim was true, only one second more and Loki was directly in front of him. He loosened the arrow.

It whistled through the air, aiming for a spot Loki’s cruiser had not passed yet, but would be in in only a few seconds. And just as he had calculated, Loki was where he should be and the arrow would have pierced his head if Loki had not grabbed the arrow mid-air.

Clint grinned. “Ball’s in your field now,” he told them over the comms.

# #

Bucky steered his cruiser slightly to the left to catch any stray movement that Loki might make once Natasha made a grab for the scepter. He tried not to think about how Steve was doing, but despite his best efforts his thoughts strayed every now and then. Their comm lines were open constantly now, so he knew that Steve was fighting off aliens by the dozen on the ground, throwing punches and his shield. Still, there was a small part of him that insisted his place was right next to Steve, watching his six and doling out punches on his own should those aliens manage to overwhelm Steve.

“Tasha, jump in three, two, one.” The little arrow head in Loki’s hand exploded and threw the cruiser off course. It dangerously listed to the side, but Loki held on.

Bucky only saw a flash of red and black jump across the gap before Loki’s cruiser veered towards Stark Tower. He was right behind Natasha when Tony informed them that Jarvis had scanned the area and found some people locked in the lobby of a bank and Chitauri heading their way.

They all were too far away to get there in time, but-

“Nat, you good on your own?”

“Da.”

Bucky veered off and headed straight for Steve. Tony had provided them with the location of the bank and Steve was still the closest of all of them; on foot he would never make it though, but with some flying alien technology?

He caught up with Steve as he was running down the avenue, dodging aliens and rubble alike that was still raining down from those falling giants of broken skyscrapers. “Someone ordered a ride?”

Steve grinned up at him, eyes even bluer in contrast to the dirt and soot covering his face. In one swift motion, he buckled the shield onto his back and lifted his hand for Bucky to pull him up. The cruiser wobbled precariously for a second as Bucky adjusted to the new weight and Steve tried to find his balance, but they did not crash.

They zipped down the avenue at a break-neck speed while Steve held onto him with a hand fisted in the back of his jacket. After nearly throwing Steve over the side because he had to take a corner too fast and too tight, Bucky yelled at him to really hold on. He would not break. (He might crash-land them, but Steve didn’t need to know that.) So Steve’s hands wrapped around his hips and held on for dear life.

The wind whipped around Bucky’s ears and his eyes watered like crazy, but Steve was here. Steve who had his large hands anchored to the belt hoops at his hips and whose breath tickled his jaw just beneath his ear.

Bucky suppressed a shiver only because they needed to evade a Chitauri who was shooting at them and take a quick detour around another block for Stark to pick him off for them. But even that did not dampen the warmth seeping through his thick military uniform and coiling in his chest.

“Almost there,” Bucky shouted over his shoulder.

Steve nodded wordlessly at his back and loosened his grip somewhat. Bucky mourned it already, but he bit his tongue in an effort not to say anything. _This is _not_ the time, Barnes_.

“You need to jump off first. I’ll be right behind you after I land this thing.”

He could feel Steve’s body was coiled for the jump – if they timed it well, he could just jump right through the blown out window and roll into the lobby. Hot air puffed against the skin below his ear and for a second Bucky was convinced he felt Steve’s lips there. But no, Steve was already standing at the back end of the cruiser, too far away from him – he would need to lean in again to do that and they had no time.

Bucky looked back at him to make sure he was ready to jump off and found the damn jerk smiling. The answering smile on Bucky’s face was a Pavlovian reflex – it may have been the adrenaline or the tingling in his entire body, Bucky did not care. Steve had always been at his most captivating when he was heading head first into danger, the crazy punk.

They could already see the bank at the end of the block. It was the glass-walled beauty of a medium high skyscraper that was somehow still unblemished up at the top floors, but the lower floors had taken a fair amount of damage. Plants lay strewn across the road and cars had crashed into the huge glass windows.

“Ready?” Bucky still looked back at Steve – he just could not look away –, his eyes bright in the late New York afternoon and dark brown hair wind tossed. “Don’t do anything stupid, punk!”

Steve, that asshole, winked at him before his eyes got distracted by his arm. Bucky followed the direction of his gaze and found that lone dark bar of his last life peeking form beneath his sleeve. He was in the process of rolling his eyes at Steve and to tell him to think about his own fucking lives when his best friend leaned in and kissed him.

Well, kissed was probably a miscategorisation. Steve nearly knocked Bucky off the cruiser with the force he used and it was just mere luck that their lips met. It tasted like concrete dust and blood.

The cruiser took a wild turn that nearly threw them off, but Bucky somehow managed to not crash-land them. His heart was a mad drumbeat in his chest (how could the battle make his heart race but Steve managed to make it go on a rollercoaster ride?) and Steve just grinned from ear to ear, a slight blush on his freckled cheekbones.

“Really? Now?”

Steve winked at him, reckless and drunk on the adrenaline of the fight and their kiss. _Never the best combination to make solid life choices_, Bucky thought in some corner of his mind, but couldn’t care less. This was his Stevie as he lived and breathed.

“We’ll talk about that later, asshole!” Bucky shouted after Steve as he finally jumped off.


	29. The Portal II

**Chapter 22**

Steve rolled onto his feet with only a slight ache in his back where he had hit a chunk of marble that had been ejected from the expensive floor. He didn’t care. He was still somewhat light-headed, but sobered when he saw the group of people huddled together in the middle of the reception area. Sofas lay around them like newspapers blown in by the wind from the subway stations and the cream-colored veins of the marble floor were pockmarked with holes.

“Anyone hurt?”

Frightened eyes turned up to him. Some people were bleeding, but it seemed to be nothing major. Some shook their head at Steve’s question, others just stared into space. “Good. Does this building have an underground floor? Anywhere you can hide in?”

“Only the safe in the back, but …” The woman who spoke up was one of the bank employees if the name tag and uniform-looking pant suit were any indication. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she stepped in front of the group and tried her best to form coherent sentences. Steve saw how her hands were shaking at her side.

“Then the subway. You have to leave this building. It’s not safe as long as these aliens are on the streets.”

Before he could formulate a plan or reassure the group to actually leave this lobby, a Chitauri jumped his back. A collective scream went up from the group and Steve bit his lip as the cool marble stopped him sliding across the floor.

When he picked himself up a second Chitauri showed up and punched him square in the face with the butt of its rifle. Blood filled his mouth and he spit it out. “I can do this all day,” he informed the aliens, but that was probably lost on them. So he followed it up with a solid punch of his shield, knocking out one of them.

“Just you and me now, bud.”

“Steve.” Bucky ran in through the front door, which was still standing by some miracle and had not been blown to pieces yet.

“Get those people out.” Steve waved in the vague direction of the employees and customers huddled together and blocked the next hit of the Chitauri. It made his knees ache, but he braced himself, arms loose to absorb the blow and-

He shoved the alien off with a shout, knocking his shield into its chin and pushing it away from his body with a solid kick to its chest. The armor there gave a faint crack, but the kick had not been enough to break it.

Steve could hear the timbre of Buck’s voice as he made sure everyone in the group was okay and would follow him out. The woman who had spoken up, helped those who just looked dazed and shell-shocked up and guided them along to the street.

Something whipped by in Steve’s peripheral vision. His head snapped around. Even though he did not know what it really was, the ominous blinking could only mean one thing. “Fuck.”

He came at the Chitauri with another right hook, silently praying that it would be enough. The alien screamed in pain and stumbled back. Steve followed up with his shield. This time the hit was strong enough that cracks spider-webbed across the metal. The Chitauri fell to its knees and from there onto its side.

Steve had no time to catch his breath. He kicked the tiny globe as deep into the building as he could and started running towards the exit. He hoped that Bucky was already way out of the blast zone.

The explosion hit him just before he reached the door. Noise and glass exploded around him and he was thrown forward like a rag doll. He could feel glass cut into his skin and fire licking at his feet before dirty concrete greeted him.

His head was ringing and white spots danced in front of his eyes. A worried face was leaning over him, blue eyes wide and mouth moving in something Steve could not hear. He took a deep breath, jostling some ribs in doing so and groaned at the pain flaring red-hot through his body.

“_Steve_, say something, for fuck’s sake.”

Steve blinked away most of the spots and tried to sit up, Bucky’s name a croak on his slip lips.

“Thank god.” Bucky’s hands helped him up. “You’re fucking stupid, you know that?”

There was fear in Bucky’s eyes and Steve wanted nothing more than to take it away. With the utmost effort he lifted a hand and brushed some smudge of dirt away from Bucky’s jaw. “’M sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Bucky huffed and held him a bit tighter as gravity tried to pull him down again.

“I’ll walk it off,” Steve ground out and stepped away reluctantly, his movements slow and painful as if every bone in his body hurt: He braced one hand on his back and arched his torso to pop some of his joints – the pain when it raced from the tips of his hair to the tips of his toes was not as strong as before.

“Fucking punk!” Bucky did not smack Steve in the head only because he thought being blasted out of a fucking bank was punishment enough for now.

“Guys, bad news. Reeeally bad news.” The comms crackled to life.

“Spit it out, Tony.”

“Jarvis just told me someone sent a nuke towards NYC. ETA five minutes.”

“What. Tell me you’re fucking joking, what the hell?”

“I’ll take care of this, how’s the scepter hunt coming along?”

Steve could hear Tony softly murmuring something (probably talking to Jarvis then), and passed the question on to Natasha. She took a few moments to reply and when her voice came on the comm lines it was slightly breathless. “Got it. Stay _down_, I said.”

A pitiful whine accompanied her words a few seconds after. “Sorry, Loki thought he could try some tricks, but he knows better now. On my way to you Jane.”

Steve nodded even though only Bucky could see him and smiled. Somehow Bucky had wound his arm around him again and was holding him up. This time Steve did not really complain. He let Bucky carry more of his weight instead for just a moment.

“Let’s get up there and help them.”

# #

Tony headed down the Hudson, following the virtual line of the estimated trajectory his suit displayed for him. There was only one possible way to get this nuclear warhead out of Manhattan and if there was some weird alien portal there to provide that way, then who was he not to use it?


	30. The Portal III

**Chapter 23**

Steve and Bucky arrived on the roof just in time to see Tony speeding down Park Avenue with a nuclear warhead on his back.

Clint was already up there, having beaten them somehow on their way up. Natasha and Jane had abandoned the portal for now to also stare up at the sky and watch Tony climb higher and higher, arms wrapped around the rocket and the blasters of his feet blazing blue-white.

“He’ll let it go at some point, right?”

No one answered Jane’s question; they all hoped it would be '_Yes_'. With Tony ascending higher and higher towards the portal in the sky, Steve started to doubt that that would be the case.

“Jane, can you shut down the portal with the scepter?” he asked, physically tearing his gaze away from Tony and towards the contraption on the roof they were all gathered around.

“I- I guess so. Yes. All calculations point to the fact that it will.” The grip of Jane’s hands around said scepter was white-knuckled and surely hurting her fingers, but she did not even flinch. She just looked up at the sky again and again, twisting her hands around the carved lines of the scepter, fretting so much the six and a half feet of Norse god looked severely constipated.

“I need you to be ready to shut it down as soon as that nuke goes through.”

Nodding, she stepped closer to the force field around the portal. She lifted the scepter, feet braced, and waited.

Loki was watching them tied up in the corner, but Steve ignored him. He kept looking up at Tony. Bucky was right next to him, shoulders brushing his. Steve did not know how or who of them had initiated it, but he was immensely grateful for Bucky’s hand in his. At the moment, it felt like everything that was keeping him upright.

“Tony, we’re ready to close to portal.”

There was static on their line. Steve tried again. “Tony, just a simple yes to know you heard me.”

More static. Then a huff of air, almost akin to a sigh. Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand harder.

“Sure, whatever you say Cap. There’s just …” Tony’s voice flickered over their comms before they saw him vanish into the portal with the nuke.

The powerful hum of the steady stream of energy keeping the portal open was the only sound on the roof of Stark Tower. They couldn’t really see anything on the other side of the portal apart from darkness and some foreign stars.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Steve muttered, also keeping an eye on Jane who pointedly did not stare up but kept her eyes on the machine, waiting for the order to close it down. “Tony get out of there! Tony!”

No answer.

A dull shockwave rocked the ground beneath their feet and the tear in the sky seemed to shudder. The pod racer sounds of the Chitauri cruisers ended in crashes.

Clint ran to the side of the roof to peer down. “They’re all falling down like someone cut their puppet strings.”

Steve acknowledged the words with a nod, eyes still trained on the portal. “Tony,” he tried again and there- Just a flicker of static over the comms.

“Close it.”

“No!” Steve shouted down the line and even Bucky flinched next to him. “Tony, you’re getting out of there then we’re closing the portal. We’re all going home together.”

Tony’s answer when it eventually came was cut to pieces. Still enough words managed to get through to put Steve in a position he did not want to be in. “Not …work, Cap. …space … in t- game … before that explo- New York, too. …… my choice. Call it.”

Steve clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Tony was right. If they did not close the portal the explosion would probably break through it and destroy New York anyway, making them fail the game. It was sound logic, but still …

“Jane-“

“No!”

“Jane, close the portal.” He was surprised how that sentence had made it through the comms intact.

“Close it,” Steve repeated with eyes screwed shut and his tone a bit harsher than he had intended.

“Stevie-“ Bucky’s soft voice made his heart stutter.

It was Natasha, who obeyed the order in the end and pushed the tip of the scepter through the force field. The energy beam shuddered and then cut off completely with a whine. They could already see their blue sky reclaiming its domain, fighting back the black spill of the Chitauri world.

Jane’s shout only seconds later had Steve look back up. And yes! The portal was still closing, but they could see Tony falling down. Relief shuddered through his body. Just for a second.

“He’s not slowing down.” Panic crept into Steve’s voice as they all helplessly watched the black dot grow bigger and bigger, streaking downwards to earth like a comet. Steve could already make out the colors of Tony’s suit. “Fuck, he’s falling fast.”

“It will be fine Cap, he’ll regenerate, right?” Clint looked worriedly over at Steve.

He looked around, but there was nothing. He could do nothing to stop Tony’s fall and nothing down here would cushion his landing. If they were in real-life it would break his back, but in the game, he would just-

“Fuck!” Tony was on his last life. Steve had seen the lone black bar on his wrist when he had pushed Clint down from the bridge. His entire body shook with the frustration of being able to do nothing. His gazed trained on that lone falling figure approaching hard concrete. He didn’t even care about the fact that the portal had now closed.

Tony had managed to not get himself closed off in another world of the game where they could not find him to get him out. Now, he was about to crash onto unrelenting concrete and lose his last life in the game.

Seconds or minutes later (it felt like an eternity to Steve either way), he flinched when Tony hit the rooftop. Maybe there was also a choked off shout stuck in his throat; Steve did not know. He didn’t really hear anything.

It took him half of the way to even realize he was running towards Tony. Bucky was keeping pace with him, face just as devoid of any emotions, he must have guessed from Steve’s reaction. The roof around them was cracked with a man sized crater that fit around Tony’s metal suit. The gold and red technological wonder was now dull and covered in dust and thousands of scratches.

Steve’s skidded to a stop and hovered his hands helplessly above the motionless body. The face plate was still on, so he carefully, oh so carefully removed it. Other parts of the suit seemed to have gone through a car press, all dents almost as big as his shield.

“Let’s get him out of there.”

Steve nodded at Bucky’s words and helped him slowly lift Tony somewhere he could at least lie without his body being forced into weird angles. As they moved him, Steve noticed that the dents seemed to decrease in number. He first thought it was a tick of the light and that it may have been due to the angle Tony had been thrown down, but … No, the huge dent squeezing Tony’s upper arm was un-denting itself right before his eyes.

“Put him down,” his voice was breathless and Bucky looked at him strangely. Steve pointed at the armor that was repairing itself and Bucky fell on his ass. They both later denied that the yelp was theirs as Tony gave a full body shudder and opened his eyes.

Five people crowded over him, smothering him, as he greedily sucked down precious, clean Earth air. Tony was slowly getting up, each movement accompanied by a cacophony of squeaking metal and grinding plates as well as his own groans of pain. “I’m never doing this ever again. And please tell me no one tried to do CPR. Pleeease. My therapist will thank you for this.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief and fell back on his haunches.

“We thought you’re dead,” Jane whispers, dashing away a few tears that had rolled down her cheeks.

“Aw …” A haggard cough. “I’m not that easy to kill, Jane. Didn’t fit in my schedule to be fair, I still have some lectures to disrupt and Profs to proof wrong after all. Can’t really die when there’s so much to do.”

A startled laugh escaped Jane as she tackled Tony in a hug. Tony complained, but did not force her to let go. Steve could not help but smile, too. Natasha shook her head and even Bucky was grinning.

Clint grabbed the scepter from where it had fallen on the floor and held it up. He held it as far away from himself as possible as if it were a snake about to attack him. “Guess we only have to return it now. Any guesses who we have to give it to?”

“Not a clue.”

“Nope.”

As the chorus of negatives swept his way, Bucky wandered over to the edge of the roof. Clint was still sitting there, one eye on the chaos down below, the other on the scepter in his hands.

People were slowly leaving their hide outs and the police and military tried to restore some sort of order. Paramedics had arrived and triaged anyone coming their way.

Steve sidled closer. “Somehow I almost feel bad for not helping down there.”

“Dude, we just closed a portal with a nuclear warhead.” Tony stood up, swaying heavily. “We’ve helped enough.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree with Stark,” Natasha said to Tony’s unending glee. “This is an extraordinary circumstance and you will never hear me say that again!”

“Whatever let’s you sleep at night,” Tony cackled, intent on not letting her live this down anytime soon in the next century.

Steve turned back to Bucky. “You okay?”

His shoulder brushed Bucky’s as they looked down and he could not help that tiny, private smile when Bucky leaned into that touch. “Just want to go home. I have this guy I need to take dancing.”

Steve was powerless against the smile that now fully bloomed on his lips. His chest felt too small and too big at the same time and he could feel a faint blush crawl its way up his neck.

His movements were aborted, unsure if he was allowed to do so, torn between not wanting to share this moment on the roof with anyone, but unable to fight the urge inside him. Bucky did not move away, just waited patiently and with a slightly amused and soppy smile for whatever Steve would be doing.

It took some courage and his heart thundered in his chest the entire time, but eventually Steve bent his head down those last few inches and pressed a kiss to Buck’s shoulder. The material of the jacket was rough against his lips; it tasted like smoke and wool and blood. Oh god, there was probably alien blood on his lips now. “Even if that guy steps on your toes?”

Bucky grinned. “Even– hold on.” He looked to the side. “Did you hear that?”

Clint had his bow ready again, scepter safely tucked to the side of the roof. Steve wished he had not left the shield on the floor again, but he could make do. He nodded at Bucky to let him know he had his six.

Slowly Bucky crept forward, Clint and Steve at his back. They were moving around the portal equipment towards the back of the building. Straight ahead one of the sky scrapers had a gaping hole in its side, nothing left but girders and glass shards for ten floors.

“I think I heard him move,” Bucky whispered, pointing his toe at one of the fallen Chitauri.

“You think he’s still alive?” Clint asked.

Steve looked the body over. It seemed unlikely that someone whose body had so many wrong angles and who was lying in a pool of dark blood would still be alive.

“Always double tap, man,” Clint said, lowering his bow as Bucky crouched down and shook his head.

“Dead.” He straightened his back just as they heard the noise again.

It all happened too fast; Steve could hardly process what happened first, second and third. It was all a jumble of images in high definition that would haunt him forever.

He heard himself shout Bucky’s name, jaw popping and muscles tensing to run towards the edge of the roof where a lone Chitauri cruiser had appeared. The alien swiped his gun across the roof and hit Bucky square in the chest, making him stumble backwards over the edge. A second later an arrow was stuck in the alien’s chest and it careened away, the cruiser tumbling out of control.

“No!” Steve slid across the floor, almost hurling himself over the edge as well. The rough concrete bit its teeth into his uniform and tore at it. He couldn’t care less. Bucky was holding on to some broken piece of girder that bent away from the smooth glass structure of the tower, his legs struggling helplessly trying to find purchase in the empty air around him. His eyes were frantic and wide with terror.

“Hold on!” Steve could hardly hear himself scream. “Just hold on!”

“Steve!”

He leaned down as far as he could, stretching this newer, larger body until his muscles burned. Still it was not enough. If he stretched any further he would lose his balance and tumble down as well. Still, he pushed his body further down, the ledge digging into his hip bones painfully.

“Bucky, c’mon. Just a bit. Just a bit more. Come on, buddy. Don’t let go. Just a bit more. Like that, yes, just-”

“No!” Steve screamed, as someone wrapped their arms around his legs. “I almost have him.” He didn’t dare look away from Bucky.

“Come on.” He didn’t know if he was talking to himself or Bucky anymore. His muscles quivered from the strain, his hip hurt, his voice was almost breaking. He tried to stretch down further – gravity pulled at him with hungry claws, eager to drag him down as well.

Just another inch. Just one more!

The person behind him – Clint! Clint must be holding his legs – grunted and dragged Steve the other way. ("You'll fall too!") He shouted in protest, looking over his shoulder for one second and trying to pull one of his legs away while he dug his hands into the concrete wall he was draped over.

Then he heard it. The ominous deep whine of metal slowly giving way. He whipped his head back around, madly pushing at Clint and pulling himself over the ledge at the same time, but it was too late. They were still reaching out for each other, fingers only a few inches apart. Such a small distance, but it would never be enough if Steve wanted to drag Bucky back up in time.

In the end, there was nothing either of them could do.

In the end, Bucky fell, screaming Steve’s name.

In the end, Steve had to watch Bucky lose his last life.


	31. The Portal IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this last chapter - Final Fantasy X - Hymn of the Fayth by Orphei Drängar, Mod and Myrra Malberg  
(I just heard this song and could see Steve in this secne in my head as clear as day)

**Chapter 24**

Steve screamed along in fury, in betrayal, in agony. He lurched forward with a sudden burst of speed that had Clint’s feet sliding over concrete. Only with another set of hands that grabbed onto Steve’s legs could Clint stop him from going over as well. Cursing and grunting, Clint and Jane dragged Steve back onto the roof.

They let go of him as soon as he sank down onto the floor, eyes still wide in shock, face white as bone and hair tussled by the wind. He was shaking, tears sliding down his grimy cheeks.

“He’ll come back,” Steve muttered, whipping at his face jerkily with his dirty sleeve. It only spread the soot and grime even more across his face. He looked up at Clint and Jane, Nat and Tony not far behind them now. Slowly they came into focus. “It was Tony’s last life too and he did not die. Bucky’ll come back, too.”

His eyes were pleading with them, screaming at them to agree because anything else … _No! _He did not want to believe this! He _could_ not believe this. Tony had been saved – maybe they had been wrong to think that they would die with their last life.

They all looked at each other, barely breathing. It was Natasha who walked past Clint and Jane to sit on her haunches in front of Steve. His big blue eyes were red-rimmed and desperate, so wide they were more white than anything else.

“Steve.” She stretched out a hand in slow motion as if not to startle him, her voice so soft and careful as if she wanted to wrap him in a blanket.

It was exactly the wrong cadence. Steve scrambled to his feet – more luck than actual cooperation of his legs. The wall at his back gave him more support than those shaky constructs of bone, tendons and muscles he was standing on. “No! No, he’s coming back. We just have to wait. He’ll be here any second now.”

They waited but nothing happened. No _whoosh_ of air, no one falling from the sky to start their next life again.

When they heard the door to the stairwell open, Steve stumbled forward. He didn’t care that there was no tornado of air to bring Bucky back down, he did not care that this would not comply with the game rules or actual physics of getting from the ground floor to the rooftop within such a short time, but everything inside him screamed out for his definitely more than best friend.

“Bucky, I-“ Steve staggered to a halt.

The man who stepped out of the stair well was Jarvis. Just like the first time when they had met him, he was wearing his suit, hair neat and tidy and the tie even matched the piece of cloth in his breast pocket.

“Avengers, let me congratulate you.” Steve watched him walk right past him into the middle of the impromptu circle. He kept staring at the dark rectangle that led down into Stark Tower, but nothing moved in the shadows. Not even a whisper of movement.

He stared and stared and stared, but nothing.

Fine! He would go down himself and search the streets to find Bucky. He had to be here somewhere. He would not just disappear. They were caught in this game after all – they were flesh and blood and not some coded characters made up of ones and zeros that could be deleted.

“Steve.” Jane was suddenly in front of him, her face unbearably sad. Steve felt the first pinprick of tears because if Jane looked at him like that then that could only mean-

“I need to get down there.” He tried to walk past her, but someone else snagged his arm. For now, he let himself be stopped – maybe one of them would come back down with him, help him look.

“You fought well and deserve to go home. The Commander sends his compliments, by the way. You fought this battle on your own, but now it’s time for you to go home.”

“Tell him he can shove his compliments where-“

“Steve, …” He actually snarled at them. Jane flinched and in some part of himself he felt shame for doing that to her. But that was not the part that had control over him right now. Right now, he wanted to lash out because they were stopping him from finding Bucky. Bucky who had squeezed his hand just a few moments ago. Bucky, who knew how he felt about him and wanted to go dancing with him. Bucky, who looked at him like he was not five foot nothing and got into trouble constantly.

They all looked at him with such pity on their faces. He hated them right then and there. Hated them for looking at him like this, like making him feel like a five-year-old who needed to be let down gently because his pet hamster had died. Like he would break if they did not choose their words carefully.

“You can go home. I’m staying here until I’ve found him.”

“I don’t think that will work.” Steve looked at Tony with blazing eyes and noticed how the tips of his fingers were already translucent.

“The Commander sends his compliments, by the way. You fought this battle on your own, but now it’s time for you to go home,” Jarvis repeated blithely, holding the scepter, as if Steve was not breaking down right in front of him.

“We’re not finished yet!” he yelled, itching for a fight, for anything to hit that would make this hole in his chest ache less.

“You defeated Loki and saved New York. You returned the scepter to us and thus fulfilled your mission. Captain, you can now go home. It was a mission well planned and executed. You fought this battle on your own, but now it’s time for you to go home.”

Rage filled Steve’s chest – hot and pulsing. He took a threatening step forward, to do what, he did not know yet. Natasha chose that moment to call his name again. With bared teeth he whirled on her, ready to shout some more. It felt good, so damn good to just release some of the pressure that was squeezing his chest. She was also starting to disappear, slowly but inexorably.

“I’m staying!” he announced, defiance dripping from each letter. He wasn’t called stubborn as a brick for nothing. If Jarvis really wanted them to go back to the real world without Bucky he could see just how far that would get Steve.

Tony was already entirely gone, Nat too and Clint was not far behind either. Steve marched towards the door or tried to. His feet seemed no longer under his command. He screamed in outrage and pain. His body seized up, his legs buckling beneath him until they gave up and he hit the concrete with his knees. Hard.

More and more of his body turned translucent; he could already see the floor beneath him through his thighs. But as soon as his quivering muscles allowed it, he fought to get up again, grunting at the pain of every inch of him that flared up with the movement, fighting his own body again – and oh how well he knew that fight.

Jarvis was standing in front of him, looking down with that same serene expression he had been wearing the entire time. Steve tried to summon all his strength to tackle him to the ground – Jarvis was just a character in this game, but he was the one who had told them it was over. So if Jarvis could take it back somehow, make the game think _he_ was not finished yet … Before Steve could muster more than getting his toes in a position where he could push himself off and forward, however, even the last bit of control he’d had over his body slipped through his fingers.

He fought his body all the way down on the uncomfortable and dusty concrete of the rooftop, but he lost in the end. Betrayed even by this bigger, better body that was not his own – oh and how painfully this game just reminded him of that, of how powerless he really was. He scoffed at himself as his body convulsed again, only the tips of his fingers visible.

It was not supposed to end like this. Not like this.

One single tear spilled over his eye and ran down his cheek.

The last thing he saw was the faint, satisfied smile on Jarvis’ lips before everything went black.

**EXIT GAME**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides*
> 
> Okay, so this is the end... but not the end-end. There will be a part II and part III, I promise. Part II is already in progress but no idea yet when I'll post it.  
I said this part is the hurt of the comfort, but thank you everyone who read this little story already despite the Character Death tag and the hurt factor of this hurt/comfort story.  
It really means a lot to me that people actually read it and maybe enjoyed it as well :)


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